


Raindrops on Roses

by PitchGold



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Contains Potentially Triggering Content, Langst, M/M, Mpreg, Solid 15, Super duper sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10075055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitchGold/pseuds/PitchGold
Summary: It wasn't--Lance never meant for any of it to happen like that. He'd tried...-----This is a terribly sad A/B/O fic about how Shiro and Lance make a mistake together and Lance gets preggo--and in wonderful Lance fashion thinks it's a good idea not to tell a soul about it. It'll be fine after all, he's got it all worked out in his head. But the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And things go from bad to so much worse.





	1. 1

-Conception -

 

For all of Lance’s mortal flaws—He wasn’t stupid. He was impulsive, he could be hot headed, and jealous and insanely consumed with self doubt—but he wasn’t stupid. He had somehow managed to squeak his way into one of the top schools in the entire world. And even if he was still the worst student there—he still was a student there. His grade’s had still cut it. If nothing else his tenacity had won out. 

 

So when Shiro had come to him, Lance knew. 

 

There was nothing about Lance, that Shiro liked. He didn’t value his tenacity, he didn’t find his jokes humorous. He tolerated Lance. And not some love and tolerance crap, the true meaning of tolerance, pulled straight from a Webster: 

 

Tolerance: the ability or willingness to tolerate something, in particular the existence of opinions or behavior that one does not necessarily agree with.

 

Yeah that was it. Shiro was able to stand in Lance’s presence, but he never did it happily. He never smiled at Lance—at least not like he smiled at Keith. There was always a forced edge to it. It was something Lance couldn’t say he could really bare after a while. 

 

Maybe that’s what it was like to have a dream shattered. To realize that someone was as entirely human as yourself. Lance liked to think of it as—Shiro had stinky socks too. And he had his pet peeves. It was just coincidentally that Lance had hit every last one of them, like strumming his hand over a harp. 

 

That—it should have stifled Lance’s infatuation though. Months of seeing Shiro roll his eyes every time Lance opened his mouth should have strangled his crush to a flat line. But Lance could never—

 

Shiro had only become that much more magnificent. 

 

Up close, Lance should have been able to make out the tiny black heads across Shiro’s nose—because let’s face it, every nineteen year old still had black heads—but instead he was even more blinded by the proverbial halo over Shiro’s head. 

 

So when Shiro had come to him, flustered and eyes unfocused—there was no way Lance could say no. 

 

Shiro’s mouth was hot and claimed him, devoured Lance’s own. Lance wasn’t convinced it wasn’t in effort to keep Lance entirely quiet. But he was still more than willing to kiss back. Still more than satisfied with the way Shiro melded their mouths together harshly. 

 

Not that Lance had even said much at that point. Beyond his nervous spouts of laughter and heavily panted “okay”s there wasn’t much more he’d even said. Not that it wasn’t too late. It was never too late for Lance to screw something up. 

 

Shiro’s Alpha musk was so thick in the room, Lance was barely able to look up from the floor when they had entered. Intense emotion could do that. If they were unlucky it could even spiral Shiro into rut, which would be worse.

 

With a shove of Shiro’s hand, Lance stumbled back to fall across his bed. 

 

“Woah,” He gasped as he caught himself in the bed covers. He swallowed thickly as he tried to breath again. Shakily he started blabbing again. “Wow, your bed is soft. Do you get a different bed than me? This feels different…” Lance trailed off. 

 

There was no answer from above him. Shiro had already stripped Lance of his jacket. He’d done it before Lance was barely at the door. He heard Shiro’s boots scrape across the floor as he stepped up to the bed. There was a thud as first one boot was removed and cast aside and then another. Lance watched each boot drop with a steady gaze. Shiro removed both socks as well before took the last step closer to the bed. 

 

Lance couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes though. He closed his mouth, trying very hard to not ramble his way into another stupid set of sentences. 

 

Everyone knew, The second Keith had helped Allura out of that pod—the spiked scent of Shiro in the room had made Lance almost curl in on himself. 

 

And then Keith had kissed Allura. 

 

What ever had happened out in open space—

 

Seeing Keith smile like that had been so great though. Lance had smiled in return. For all their animosity—it wasn’t like it was with Shiro. Underneath all the jabs and the fights was a roiling undercurrent of fondness. Maybe it was because Hunk and Pidge had grown so close, but Lance felt like he was looking at a true friend at that moment. 

 

And his friend had just scored himself a Princess! 

 

If Lance had—if the crushing scent in the room hadn’t made him want to curl up under the couch, he would have high-fived Keith. 

 

Shiro had left hurriedly, not speaking a word to anyone. 

 

And the poor flustered Alteans. If only they knew. Allura had even inquired if Shiro was alright. 

 

Keith had started to stumble through an answer before Hunk had much more graciously stepped in, saying they should just give him some space. 

 

A metal hand expertly flicked the clasp of Lance’s jeans before, with a whoosh of breath, Lance found himself flat on his back as Shiro yanked his skinny jeans off in a few deliberate rough jerks. 

 

The thought popped into his head, that ‘hey! At least Lance was wearing his favorite underwear!’

 

Which Shiro was now reaching forward, a hand at either side of Lance’s hips as he started to pulled the galaxy blue Calvin Kleins from Lance’s perky ass.

 

“H-hey,” Lance tried to reach forward, hands scrambling over Shiro’s vest. “Come on, Shiro, we just got started—“

 

Shiro didn’t comment only leaned forward, slurping Lance’s cock into his mouth. 

 

“Ohhhhhh, “ Lance’s head thumped back against the wall as it was thrown back. 

 

Shiro raised off at that, eyes inquiring, Lance waved him off though, before he adjusted—till Shiro pulled him back, pulling his ass off the edge of the bed a bit more so Lance could comfortably lay his head back. 

 

Another moan leaked out as Shiro lowered his head again and went back to work. His fingers, Lance blushed as Shiro’s fingers slid between the crack of his ass, they slid through the slick already gushing out of Lance. God he hadn’t even touched one of Lance’s omega glands and he was already dripping. He was so pathetic! 

 

When Lance did finally manage to raise his head, looking down at Shiro—Lance frowned. Shiro had his eyes closed. Suckling off Lance’s small cocklet, his eyes were crammed shut. His expression looked—determined but not even remotely pleased. 

 

Bitting his lip, Lance looked away as well. 

 

Right. This wasn’t about Lance. 

 

Suddenly though Lance had to throw his head back again, breath coming in ragged pants. “Oh god,” he murmured, “Oh god,” 

 

Shiro was in him, his fingers were curling and uncurling, probing. 

 

“Ohhhh,” Lance’s toes curled. “Oh yessss, right there,” 

 

Shiro didn’t need the direction, once he’s found Lance’s channel he dipped his fingers in without hesitation and started to thrust.

 

Lance's eyes rolled back into his head. His hands couldn’t find purchase in Shiro’s sheets. He clawed his fingers in, messing up Shiro’s so perfectly made bed. Not that it was perfect before, Lance had ruined that the moment Shiro had tossed him over the covers.

 

Yeah, Lance seemed to ruin a lot of things…

 

Shiro sucked harder, tearing a muffled groan from Lance as he tried to stifle himself. He jammed the back of his hand against his mouth. 

 

He was having sex with a god. Lance could wrangle himself under control for that. He needed too. This was possibly his only shot, and he wasn’t going to leave Shiro with the memory of a babbling whinny zoned-out omega underneath him. 

 

Shiro was standing suddenly, his fingers made a slick wet sound as they pulled from Lance. 

 

Involuntarily the action pulled a,”Nhhhgg,” from Lance, his hips bucking as Shiro left him. 

 

Looking up, panic struck through Lance. Did he do something wrong? Wide eyes shot up to the alpha. What did he need to do to make Shiro happy? Lance knew what ever it was in that moment, he’d do it. 

 

Lance almost whined, almost tried to gasp his thoughts. 

 

But then Shiro was prodding Lance again, directing him to lay back on the bed, this time in the right direction and not perpendicular. 

 

Lance obeyed, laying back on Shiro’s—his pillow smelled just like him. Lance swallowed again as his eyes fluttered closed. It was all minty pine smell and deep roasted cardamom. It was a pure Alpha scent. Lance’s hand came up, curling into the pillow. It was soft. Like Shiro’s bed was soft. Maybe like Shiro’s hair… Lance turned his head and took a deep inhale. 

 

The scent was so—mmmmhhhhmmm, good. It was so good. The rush of hormones released with ever inhale of it had Lance feeling drunk. 

 

The bed dipped and Lance was spurred from his revery to look down at Shiro. He’d removed the vest and just as he sat at the edge of the bed he was tugging his shirt up and off. 

 

Blushing, Lance’s eyes glued to every small curve of Shiro’s skin that was revealed. His fingers curled in to keep himself from reaching out. It felt—too intimate to pet across Shiro’s skin like Lance wanted. So instead he just averted his gaze again. 

 

Shiro slipped from his pants in the next second, followed by his nondescript black boxer briefs. Completely nude, his scarred and flushed skin drew Lance’s gaze again as he crawled over Lance. 

 

Rough hands were at Lance’s hips, holding him still as Shiro shuffled closer still. He—he still wasn’t looking at Lance, his eyes down cast as his hips rubbed forward. 

 

It was when he stilled that Lance slid an elbow underneath himself to reach between them with his free hand. 

 

“Here, let me,” Lance murmured. 

 

It was partially an excuse, Lance’s long fingers curled around Shiro’s cock gently, stroking him just a bit. He hadn’t been able to get on his knees for Shiro after all, Shiro hadn’t given him that option. Lance watched the flushed cock in his hand. It stiffened a bit more, swelled at his touch. It was flattering, and it propelled Lance into his next action. 

 

Wiggling his hips closer, Lance directed the cock down and slid forward and his hips back just as—

 

“Nhhhh,” Lance gasped and his eyes squeezed shut, his vision bursting with light as the white hot rush of orgasm shot through him just as the head slid into him. 

 

It was several seconds of recovery as Lance panted and gasped and lay boneless across Shiro’s sheets. His chest heaved and he finally started to come around as Shiro settled between his legs. He moved slow, sliding in through the orgasm, drawing it out in Lance. 

 

Lance’s eyes shot wide. He’d just come. They literally just started into the fucking part and Lance had blown his load. His cheeks caste dark crimson as he threw an arm over his eyes. 

 

How horribly embarrassing. 

 

There went any chance of Lance leaving Shiro with a handful of wistful memories. 

 

But for what ever reason, Shiro just comfortably slid forward farther. His hand even came up, rubbing his fingers over Lances cocklet, urging what little was left of Lance’s orgasm to ebb out. When he was done, Shiro shifted his hands back to Lance’s hips, sliding them into the crease of this thighs. He adjusted Lance and gently pulled him closer till inch by inch, he was buried balls deep and Lance’s ass was flush to his groin. 

 

Lance had to tell himself to breath, it was coming in harsh pants and gasps. Right. Shiro hadn’t exactly done a lot of stretching. Lance closed his eyes. It hurt, but there was no stopping. Lance wouldn't let anything stop them. His legs squeeze int at Shiro’s sides, It helped with the burning feeling. He wanted this—he’d always wanted this. Even if it was coming in this form, even if it was a—even if Lance knew he was falling so far short of what Shiro really wanted. At least he was here. Like the cargo pilot that had scraped his way into fighter class, at least he was here. 

 

It was a bit of a surprise when Shiro reached behind them and pulled Lance’s legs up, fitting them on his shoulders as Shiro shifted down to his elbows—and legit he push-upped his way into a first full thrust into Lance. The new position allowed him to plunge deeper into Lance. 

 

“Ohhh,” Lance’s mouth fell open. The rush of hormones in him stirred and his hands pulled at the sheets again. Already, one thrust and Lance could feel the thumm of pain start to resign. 

 

There was a groan over him and Shiro was adjusting onto his knees, shifting Lance before he thrust again. 

 

Lance had told himself he wasn’t going to be pathetic. He wasn’t going to cling to Shiro, he wasn’t going to whine, and present like some little omega slut. But as Shiro started into him, Lance’s hands couldn’t take it anymore, and one shakily reached out, running against Shiro’s shoulder up to the meat of his neck. His flesh was so warm. It was so smooth. Lance loved it. 

 

When he looked up—Shiro still had his eyes squeezed shut. He cracked them for just a second, his breath finally starting to come in pants as he pistoned into Lance. Their eyes never exactly met before Shiro was shifting forward and his head hit the pillow next to Lance, groaning into it as a hand came up, gripping Lance’s waist to hold him still so Shiro could fuck him harder. He was bending Lance in half practically as he pound into him—and it felt—god, it felt so good. 

 

Lance gasped out another moan as the first contraction already bowled through him. His body spasmed with it. He’d never felt a knotting contraction before. Then again, he’d never had a knot in him. 

 

So soon? God he was so obvious. 

 

His hands fisted as he curled into Shiro. 

 

Would Shiro even knot inside of him? 

 

Shiro struck an arm out on the bed, giving him the leverage to slam inside Lance harder, prompting the next constriction. 

 

Lance actually did whine at that, his body convulsing as he tried to blink past the pain of it, focusing on the blissful feeling of getting nailed. Would it hurt every time like this? He didn’t remember the pain of it being explained in any Sex Ed. class he’d attended. 

 

Again, his body tried to lock down on Shiro and it failed as Shiro thrust in harder. 

 

Shiro’s hand at Lance’s waist dug under him, squeezing Lance to him, changing the angle just enough as Shiro thrust again. 

 

And Lance bit down hard on his lip to stifled a moan as his body clamped down on Shiro. 

 

The connection was tested as Shiro’s hips frantically gave short rapid thrusts, but it held and Shiro gave a gasp before—

 

“Keee—ithh,” the gasped exhale was in a rough guttural Alpha tone. 

 

Lance’s breath stopped. 

 

The tumbled whisper wouldn’t have been heard if Shiro hadn’t buried his head at Lance’s neck, so close to his ear. 

 

It was the first thing—it was the first thing Shiro had said since they’d entered his room. 

 

On the brink of cracking, Lance barely noticed the twinge of pain as Shiro swelled in him, knotting him. 

 

Shiro gave a groan, his arms constricting around Lance almost painfully. Lance could feel him spilling inside him too. 

 

He realized of course, as Shiro finally came back from his bliss, he turned wide, worried eyes to Lance. He knew Lance had heard him. His mouth fell open, gaping as if he wanted to say something. There was an apology there, just at the tip of his tongue. Lance could see it in the way his mouth moved. And he didn’t want it. 

 

He didn’t need to. 

 

Everything Shiro needed to say had already been uttered. 

 

So past the cloying feeling in Lance’s throat and the painfully crushing feeling in his chest, he pulled on a smile. His lips trembled just a little, but he still smiled and he still looked at Shiro like he was a god. 

 

“You’re really big,” Lance panted. He shifted his hips to emphasize. It was something to say, something to stop Shiro from talking. 

 

And saying Shiro filled him was certainly true. Lance had no doubt he’d be sore later. 

 

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice was louder this time, it has a sort of—it was guilt. Shiro’s voice had cracked with guilt. 

 

Lance just leaned forward before Shiro had a chance to say anything thing else. He pressed their lips together fiercely. 

 

He had no desire to hear what Shiro would say. 

 

Because Lance wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was here. Shiro hadn’t fooled him. And it hurt a bit more to think that Shiro thought he had possibly. 

 

* * *

 

“You can stay,” Shiro’s voice seemed so—not desperate, but trying. Maybe sincere was the word? Guilty fit better though. “It’s late, Lance. No one will even have the slightest idea.” 

 

Lance didn't look in his direction as he slid his jeans up over his hips, His first excuse had been, they’d tip off the team if Lance stayed. If Lance didn't get back and showered, they’d all know and that would be awkward. Especially after the rest of the events that night. Keith and Allura were causing enough awkward as it was after all. 

 

“Naw,” Lance shook his head. 

 

He’d plastered on a smile. It was the most convenient mask he could find. 

 

“Besides,” Lance turned fully dressed already. “That beds not gonna be big enough for the both of us.” 

 

Shiro just frowned. He was sitting up against the wall at the head of the bed, still nude as he watched Lance dress. 

 

It was a clear lie. They’d both just fit fine into Shiro’s bed. Sleeping would have been a bit more of a challenge, but with some snuggling they would have still been fine. 

 

“You don’t have to do this—“

 

Lance looked over sharply just as he was pulling on a shoe. He wasn’t sure what expression he wore, but what everit was it stopped Shiro from saying anything more. 

 

No. He didn’t have to do any of it. He chose to. 

 

He smiled again before Shiro could further comment. 

 

“It’s okay.” He straightened. He snatched up the other shoe and scooped his jacket up from the floor before rounding on the door. 

 

He didn’t belong here after all. When it was all said and done this wasn’t his place. And staying any longer would just—Lance wasn’t strong enough for that. 

 

He felt the first of a wracking sob cloying at him, but Lance was proud that he didn't break till he was in his room, sliding his hand across the key pad to lock the door. His bed wasn’t nearly as soft as Shiro’s but it was familiar as he sunk into it sniffling and trying to push the tears away enough to at least be able to see. 

 

* * *

 

-1 day-

 

Lance flopped back on the bench of the kitchen. They hadn’t even started and it was still clear that Lance was dragging. 

 

In his defense, he’d tried to sleep. But laying in bed, every little sound just brought back the rush and the utterance of one name. He’d gotten to sleep around maybe six thirty—and of course, Shiro had enforced an alarm at eight. Early morning practices were probably going to be a thing for quite some time. 

 

Keith next to Lance wrinkled his nose at him. 

 

Lance just fluttered his eye lashes back at him. “Catch a whiff of my wonderful smell?” He pinned Keith in a look. “That’s called soap. Most humans use it when they shower.” He gave a shrug. “I mean those of us not raised by wolves.” 

 

Keith blinked a few times, his eyes cast around the kitchen but no one was close enough to notice or didn’t care about the impending squabble.

 

Lance was already half way towards a bite into his alien equivalent cereal. He stopped and shook his head when Keith’s peculiar expression only intensified. 

 

“What?” 

 

Keith’s face twisted again like he was uncomfortable before he glanced back at Lance and spoke. “You’re not—like—gonna brag?” 

 

Lance blinked. He knew what Keith was talking about. But Lance had scrubbed at his skin till it was red the night before. He knew if the others smelled him it would only embarrass Shiro. He couldn’t do that to him. The night before had been a moment of weakness for Shiro, and over Lance’s dead body would he parade that fact around. 

 

So he played it off, chewing slow at his cereal and blinking at Keith like the mullet head was an idiot. “About what?” Lance cocked a smile. “Though let’s face it, compared to you, there are a lot of things I could brag about.” 

 

Keith gave another reconnaissance glance around him before he ducked in to lean into Lance, arms folded over the table and those tacky fingerless gloves on display. 

 

“Lance,” His voice was low. “I can smell it.”

 

Lance leaned in as well, but shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, buddy.” 

 

Keith huffed and his eyes narrowed. “I’m an Alpha too.”

 

He pointed to the kitchen where Shiro was talking with Allura, an easy smile was on his face as he drank at the coffee-like stuff Hunk had found on one of the planets they’d visited. 

 

“Shiro is an Alpha Prime,” Keith hissed. “Any Alpha with half a nose could smell what just happened between you two.” He gestured to Lance, “You’re practically dripping in his smell. And no matter how many showers you’ve taken. It has to wear off with time.” 

 

Shifting his gaze down at the bowl of cereal, Lance pushed his spoon through the mushy stuff. He frowned. “Can—“ his eyes looked out towards the others. “They can smell too?” 

 

Maybe it was the disappointed look on Lance’s face, maybe it was the way he suddenly hunched his shoulders like he was bracing for something, what ever it was, Keith gave another peculiar look to Lance. 

 

His mouth twisted in a weird frown like he was trying for once in his life to think something through. 

 

“Maybe not,” He admitted. He glanced to Hunk, then Pidge. “If you stick by me, you can probably mask it. And if you step closer to Shiro you definitely won’t be found out.” 

 

Lance nodded, “Okay.” 

 

Keith leaned in though, his brow narrow. “It’s the first fucking day though, it’s going to be really strong today, and you’ll be damn lucky if you’re not smelled by the others.” 

 

Lance nodded again, eyes trained on Keith. 

 

“And try to run your self ragged at training, the more you sweat the more your own scent will cover it up.” 

 

Lance pursed his lips, but he gave another short nod. 

 

Keith just blinked at him as he huffed out a sigh. “I still can’t believe it’s not the first thing out of your mouth today.” 

 

Lance frowned and tried to give a nonchalant shrug. “It—I mean it wasn’t like you think.” 

 

Keith looked back to Shiro. 

 

Yeah he knew too. He accepted the answer though. 

 

A moment later Shiro slid into sit in the booth. He had coffee and a plate of triangle purple toast and some mush that might be eggs. 

 

“I’m not sure if I feel better when the two of you are arguing or when you’re clearly scheming,” Shiro chuckled. 

 

Completely involuntarily, Lance wanted nothing more then to make himself smaller against Keith. 

 

Keith just snorted at Shiro’s words. 

 

Lance looked around hastily for a distraction. His eyes on his cereal—it was almost gone, but it was soggy. Maybe he could just get some more…

 

He surged up to reach across the table for the cereal container—

 

And there was Shiro. Eyes wide, his mouth even dropped open as his hand clamped down on Lance’s wrist. His nose flared again, taking in the scent that had just whooshed over him and he was staring straight at Lance. 

 

Frozen, Lance was not entirely sure what to do. 

 

Quickly, Shiro released him and sat back. “I’m sorry,” he hastily blurted. 

 

Carefully Lance sat back in the booth. Keith looked at Lance, as if it was obvious, as if Lance should have known… everything Keith had said was startlingly true. 

 

Breathing carefully, Lance looked back down at his cereal. 

 

Was it Shiro’s first time confronting what had happened the night before? Lance felt a hollowness in his chest. He’d embarrassed him? Lance never meant that. 

 

Shiro stood hastily. “I’ll see you both at training.” 

 

Keith waved him off and Lance nodded. 

 

His eyes followed Shiro though as he gave Pidge his untouched breakfast, swiping one purple triangle before at a hasty pace he averted his gaze and left the kitchen. 

 

There was a breaths span of quiet before Keith spoke up. “He’s not used to dealing with stuff like this,” 

 

Lance gave a slight smile. “It’s okay.” he tried to swallow past the building lump in his throat. “I understand.” Of all the people to be caught fucking—Lance was pretty sure he was at the rock bottom of Shiro’s list. 

 

“Do you,” Keith leaned in again. “Do you wanna talk, maybe?” 

 

It was—Lance smiled at the concern from Keith. But in the end, he shook his head. “Naw, I’m sure it’ll all be fine.” 

 

Keith gave another peculiar look to Lance but he turned back to his bowl without further prompting. 

 

Lance took another shower before training, just to give himself one more scrub down, even if it only helped a little. And once he was there, true to his word, Keith stuck to him like glue. He volunteered to spar with him, he ran with him, he even sat next to Lance when they took a break. 

 

It didn’t escape Lance’s notice though—that Shiro stayed as far from him as he could. 

 

If Lance had any hope before—well he’d received a definitive answer that day. 

 

* * *

 

-2 weeks-

 

First it was Keith. 

 

Why was it always Keith? 

 

It couldn’t be someone Lance at least related to on a human level? Pidge might have been an even better alternative than Keith, for anything. 

 

But after a particularly hard training session Keith was giving Lance that look again. 

 

Lance tried to take another swig of his water bottle but—

 

“Have you finally come to the conclusion of my stunning beauty or something?” Lance jabbed, holding the water bottle away from him in a gesture as he stared at Keith. 

 

Keith blinked a couple times but his mouth frowned that twisted kind of frown again. “You—“ his arms crossed. He was sitting next to Lance again. “You smell different.” 

 

“It’s called shampoo—“

 

Keith growled, interjecting Lance’s snark. “Not like that!” 

 

Lance blinked. His gaze traveled to Shiro for a split second. 

 

Keith alone shook his head. “Not like that either. “ Though he reconsidered, “Unless—have the two of you?” 

 

Lance tried to give a subtle shake of his head. “No,” he murmured as quiet as he could manage. 

 

Keith sat back. “It’s probably just nothing.” 

 

Lance’s shoulders relaxed as he set the water bottle down next to him. 

 

“What—“ Lance tipped his head. “I mean what does it smell like?” 

 

Maybe it was another bonding moment, because for once Keith didn’t look like he was just humoring Lance or annoyed. He honestly answered. 

 

“Like you—“ He gave a frustrated sound. “But like Shiro…” He crossed his arms. “I’m not even sure. It’s really different.” 

 

Just to check, Lance lifted an arm and sniffed down at himself. He smelled like sweat. But he didn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. 

 

“It smells nice,” Keith admitted, though the look on his face suggested he wasn’t exactly sure how he was admitting it.

 

“Oh,” Lances brow knit. 

 

“I mean,” Keith seemed to be having trouble articulating. “Like you always have that nice omega scent, yours, its got this like minty-ness too it. But like it’s different now—like I don’t even know how to explain it, there’s almost a satisfied quality to it?” He shook his head, knowing he wasn’t making much sense. 

 

Lance just nodded not knowing what else to say. The topic died for the most part as well, especially once Pidge joined the two of them. 

 

With training done for the day and everyone shuffling off to shower and get changed, Lance may have even forgotten about it, at least if as he stepped up to one of the showers he didn’t smell—

 

Lance had thought he was alone. 

 

But as he stared at the smooth wall in front of him—he could smell Shiro the moment he’d stepped past the divider. 

 

It was—it was the first time they had been alone together…since it had happened. 

 

The wet plop of Shiro’s bare feet were Lance’s first hint, but when he felt the warm breath against his shoulder, Lance involuntarily shivered. 

 

Opening his mouth, Lance tried to think of something to say. 

 

But he never got a chance as Shiro seized him. The showers spun around Lance as he was flipped and pressed up against the wall. 

 

Lance’s breath came in gasps as suddenly his gaze was filled with Shiro’s stormy eyes. 

 

“You—“ Shiro started. His brow was knit and he practically glowered at Lance. His eyes flicked over Lance, like he was studying him. “What were you and Keith talking about?” he demanded.

 

Lance’s mouth still hung open but this close to Shiro he blinked rapidly trying to bring words to his mouth. “Uh—“ He finally forced articulation. “I—he—apparently, I smell different?” 

 

Shiro nodded. 

 

There was something—it almost felt like, Lance let his head rest back against the wall. 

 

“Do I smell different to you?” 

 

Shiro didn’t answer. But guessing from the way his nose flared with every breath, crowding Lance in against the wall even more as his hands came up to press against the white surface behind Lance was answer enough. 

 

“I didn’t tell Keith,” Lance blurted. “He just figured it out, I didn’t know, I tried—“

 

“It’s fine.” Shiro’s voice was quiet. But his eyes still ran over Lance. 

 

Lance wanted to curl into himself. 

 

It was like Shiro was gazing at something so bizarre, so foreign. Lance hated the feeling. It made his insides tighten unpleasantly. He always wanted Shiro to look at him—but not like that. Not like Lance was—a pest. 

 

“I can try and wash it off.” Lance tried to say helpfully. “I mean it seems to be bothering—you.” 

 

Shiro still was eerily quiet. 

 

He blinked at Lance again, his gaze focusing back up on his face. 

 

Slowly, he slid his hands away from the wall. When he took a step back it was careful, like he was exerting most of his will power on such small movements. 

 

He nodded slowly, clearing his voice before he spoke. “Yeah, uh yeah, try that.” 

 

With an averted gaze, Shiro stepped out back towards the lockers, keeping to himself as he hunched his shoulders and briskly left. 

 

Lance stayed against the shower wall for a few more breaths. His heart raced but slowly he pushed himself away and started to wash. 

 

* * *

 

-4 weeks-

 

It didn’t come quickly. It wasn’t a revelation at one sudden moment. 

 

Lance had thought about it—every omega does after all. He hadn’t—There was worrying about something and then there was actually considering it a possibility. 

 

He was tired first. Lance had always adored sleep. It was an addiction he’d sometimes joked, but suddenly it became the most important thing to him. He was stealing sleep at ever opportunity. And waking was quite possibly the worst of it all. His body felt—off. It wasn’t sluggish so much as—it felt like he could barely make himself move from out of bed. 

 

It was like exhaustion pulled at every cell, keeping him down. 

 

It only made it worse when Shiro had caught him once right before training. He’s sighed, deep and told Lance he expected him to run twice the simulations that day. The disappointment leaking from his normally emotionless gaze hit through Lance like a wrecking ball. 

 

He’d spent that night curled tightly up, and sobbing. 

 

It was one look, and it’d torn him to shreds. 

 

It wasn’t till the nausea hit though that the wheels in his mind really started to turn. 

 

Lance loved Hunk’s food. Everybody loved Hunk’s food! But one evening all Hunk had done was offer a small plate of —Lance had gagged. He’d gagged so hard he barely held himself up. He’d gagged again and quickly left. He’d barely made it to his bathroom in time. 

 

It had been a week since he’d started to hurl his guts out at least once a day. 

 

And a space mall—it was a big place. Lance had managed to find just a small amount of time to slip into the small drug store. He just hoped that he’d picked out the right thing. He’d asked the clerk. Red all the way to his ears, he’d still managed to ask, and was directed to the right aisle all the way down to the shelf. 

 

Would it even be accurate? Lance wondered. 

 

He’d grabbed four different ones. 

 

Dumping them all in the sink, he surveyed over the alien symbols and read outs. There was enough though from the boxes to know—there were just somethings that were universal. 

 

Thrusting a hand in, he tore open the first box to meet his fingers. 

 

His fingers fumbled as he tried to tear the wrappings open. The sound of it echoed harsh in his ears as through the tiny bathroom attached to his room. 

 

It wasn’t—Lance dropped the first two in the trash with a bit of a horrified jolt to each. He wasn’t sure what species used—why would a shape like that need inserted? 

 

On to the third box—it looked more familiar. 

 

His hands shook as he slid his jeans from his hips and sat down on the toilet seat. He swallowed thickly and he could hear his breath, his heart also crashing through his ears. 

 

He just needed a bit, he reminded himself as he carefully positioned the stick between his legs. His hands shook so bad he was almost afraid of dropping it. But he managed to hold himself together. 

 

When he was done, Lance set the test strip on the counter. 

 

He wondered how long it would take. He picked up the box and started to try and decipher through it all. It looked like it was as well pretty universal. Pink meant positive and blank meant negative. 

 

It was just a glance—just a single glance past the box. But it was quite possibly the longest moment Lance had ever experienced. 

 

Sitting next to the faucet with weird little symbols and cute little alien flowers printed across the stick, the small strip—had turned an alarming neon pink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: So this hurt just a little to write. I’m sorry if it ends up being just as painful to read. Also, I don’t know jack shit about prego-ness so you know, take this all with a grain of salt, it was written based off of Google searches and horrible things I’ve heard from the women in my life brave enough to go through with the whole carrying a child thing. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) [Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

 

\- 6 weeks -

 

Lance had known for sure at five weeks. At least it was easy to count from the moment on. It’s not exactly like he had sex with anyone else. Though he hadn’t—maybe his state of mind was just so far away he hadn’t even considered any of it possible. 

 

Though vomiting violently at 5 am every morning should have alerted him sooner—maybe he didn’t want to believe it. 

 

Even after two positive tests in his bathroom, it still took a week to fully sink in. 

 

Then there was the back aching and the cramps—oh gosh, Lance was sure sleep would avail him forever. His one true love and now as the days dragged on, it seemed so far from his grasp. 

 

At first—Lance still blushed at the idea. He really shouldn’t have, but he’d stolen Shiro’s pillow. 

 

Every instinct in him screamed for an Alpha. But it wasn’t for any Alpha. It wasn’t like heat. He buzzed with need for _his Alpha_ , for Shiro. He just wanted strong hands and a gentle tone. He wanted to lay across Shiro’s chest and curl up next to him under the sheets. He wanted the cool metal of Shiro’s fingers in Lance’s hair, or the brush of stubble from his cheek. 

 

If his hormones were biased to Shiro before—now it was a nightmare. 

 

And it was all pounding across Lance’s nerves like a four year old plopped their hands across piano keys. 

 

A look from Shiro could fill Lance with such—gooey fragile fluttering and yet amazing flowery feelings and the next—just the slightest of different looks and Lance was bursting through the doors of his room heaving from the tears. 

 

He had to calm it down. Even if it was just so he wouldn’t alert the rest of the team. He had to cork it up somehow. He was already getting side-eyed looks from Keith a couple times. He had a long road ahead and Lance knew he needed to damper himself somehow. 

 

So he’d snuck in while everyone else was training, and snatched up Shiro’s pillow. It was soft and still wonderfully scented like him. 

 

And most of all, it was calming. A whiff into the pillow and Lance could slump against his bed in contentment. A sniff of it after hurling his guts out again and he could finally manage to pull in breath. Curling up with it pressed to his cheek and sometimes the scent could lull him to sleep. 

 

It wasn’t the real thing, but Lance contented himself on the knowledge it was the closest he’d ever get again. 

 

It was a shamefully Omega thing to do. ..but Lance knew he probably wouldn’t ever give the pillow back. 

 

That night though, even that pine-scented pillow couldn’t calm Lance into sleep. He’d run his fingers along the thin black strip at the pillow cases edge, stroking it lovingly as he tried to think of sleep. It was no use. 

 

So Lance found himself trudging to the kitchen. Some tea would help. At the last planet market they’d come to, Hunk had picked some up. It was his way of expressing concern for Lance. He didn’t know as far as Lance could tell. He just thought that Lance was feeling under the weather.

 

None of them knew. And Lance would walk through fire bare from skin to bone to keep it that way. He was already useless to the team, the last thing he needed was to be a burden now as well. 

 

Once the door opened, the gleaming kitchen revealed—Lance almost pivoted on his heels and headed straight back up to his room. 

 

“Hey,” Shiro’s deep voice was accompanied with a slight smile. A drowsy smile. One that suggested like Lance, he’d been looking for sleep, but never managed to find it. 

 

Lance was frozen. 

 

He tried to think if leaving at that moment was still wise. Would it tip Shiro off…? Would staying tip Shiro off? 

 

Then Shiro turned to him. He was in a soft looking long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants, both varying shades of charcoal grey.

 

And he looked—just so...

 

Lance swallowed. The hormones raging through him were always worse at night. It was always horrible at night. He’d imagined this. He’d thought of Shiro like this. Domestic and open, and smiling. It hurt so bad at that moment—and it was all Lance wanted. 

 

So he stepped forward. 

 

“Can’t sleep?” Shiro asked. 

 

Lance shifted awkwardly in his blue stripped pajama pants and bath robe. “uh—yeah I, I haven’t been feeling well.” 

 

Shiro tipped his head. “You haven’t?” 

 

Lance’s eyes shot down to the floor. “I—“ He wasn’t sure what to say. 

 

Emotion was already rising up in him. 

 

To make it worse, Shiro was stepping closer, the cup of coffee in his hand set aside on the island as he ventured to Lance. 

 

“Do you need to step into a healing pod?” 

 

His voice was so—Lance closed his eyes. 

 

It had been so long since Shiro had spoken to him. 

 

They had tried, after ward. They’d tried to act normal, But Lance knew he’d failed. He couldn’t look at Shiro after it all. He couldn’t stand close to him. Memory would surge and he’d just start thinking about how that had led to then and—

 

_ “Keee-ithh.”  _

 

Lance would start breaking at all his seams. He'd had to ramble off some excuse at times and crawl into a secluded corner of the Castle a few times before—before he realized it was just easer to stay a good ten feet from Shiro at all times. 

 

Not that Shiro had made it easier. He’d tried to talk after. He’d tried on several occasions to apologize, Lance had always found it easier to leave him hanging as he scrambled away. After a while it—Shiro had just let Lance skitter past him like a scared cat every time he looked in his direction. 

 

“Lance?” Shiro inquired again. 

 

Lance shot stalk still as he realized how close Shiro was to him. 

 

“I’m fine,” Lance squeaked in a voice he wasn’t proud of. He side-stepped to get back to the door. “You know on second thought, I think I’ll just go back to bed. I’m just being stupid. I don’t really need anything…” 

 

“Lance wait,” Shiro was suddenly touching him. 

 

And Lance felt like he was going to melt. 

 

His hands were so warm. They were the only hands Lance ever wanted to feel in his entire life, to feel ever again. They were so perfect. Shiro was so perfect. And Lance—

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, he couldn’t go down this road. He had—there was something else he had to worry about now, something bigger then his petty omega needy self. And—it would hurt so much more in the end. 

 

“Come on,” Shiro’s voice took on a gentle quality, his hands soft as he pulled Lance in, holding him tentatively away, but enough he could direct him into the kitchen, towards the small table. “You came to get some tea, right?” 

 

Lance didn’t have the strength to look up. But he had less when Shiro started to tug at him. He knew he should just escape—but Shiro was touching him. Lance almost wanted to cry. He was finally touching him again. 

 

“The one I’ve seen Hunk make for you?” Shiro sounded like it was a question but they both knew it wasn’t. He was tugging Lance already back to sit at the cozy round booth bench. 

 

“Let me make it for you. It’ll take just a few moments.” 

 

Involuntarily, Lance whined but he sat where he was instructed. 

 

Shiro went to work on the tea quickly. His hands moved faster probably than they needed to but his eyes were cast on Lance every few seconds. Maybe making sure he was staying. 

 

The rushed steaming cup was presented to Lance though, tea ball still in it as the dark tea infused liquid whirled up through the hot water. It didn’t escape Lance’s notice how carefully Shiro set the cup before him, the movements of his hands held painstakingly steady—almost robotic. 

 

“Thank you,” Lance murmured. 

 

Shiro nodded before cautiously he slid into the bench across from Lance. His coffee cup was with him but Lance was pretty sure it was partially forgotten. 

 

Lance reached forward and dabbed the tea ball through the water. It gave him something to do. 

 

“Lance,” the word was uttered so quiet. 

 

Lance didn’t look up. 

 

“I really have wanted to talk to you,” Shiro went on after a moment of silence. “We never really got to talk about anything.” 

 

“It’s fine,” it was the only thing Lance could think to say. 

 

“It’s not,” Shiro insisted. “I—I’m so sorry.” 

 

Lance did look up then. He shook his head. “Please don’t,” Lance couldn’t bare it if Shiro regretted what happened. 

 

Shiro was looking at him. His dark stormy eyes were trained on Lance. His head shook as he went on. “I never should have come to you. It was so inconsiderate of me.”

 

Lance vehemently shook his own head. “Don’t!” he frantically tried to say. 

 

“I was so selfish,” Shiro persisted. “I shouldn’t have brought that to you—I shouldn’t have done those things to you—“ 

 

In a rush, Lance was standing. “Please just stop.” 

 

Lance tried to move away but Shiro caught him, holding his wrist and Lance still. 

 

“Let me apologize.” 

 

“No,” Lance hissed. 

 

The shock on Shiro’s face was evident and Lance pulled from his grasp. 

 

“I wanted it to happen.” Lance tried to explain. “I—if it was anyones fault it’s mine. I knew—I just—“ He turned towards the door. He was going to start crying. His eyes were already welling. 

 

“Lance please,” Shiro tried to stride forward, tried to catch Lance again. 

 

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Lance said as he tapped for the door to open. 

 

Shiro looked so—his hand was outstretched to Lance again, his mouth opened like he wanted to speak again—he looked so magnificent. 

 

Lance felt sick again. He groaned as an arm reflexively went over his stomach. “I need to go,” And with that he fleeted through the doors and was gone. 

 

* * *

 

\- 8 weeks -

 

When he got plump—he told Blue. 

 

She’d maybe always had known but as Lance approached her in the empty dark hangers, she still purred happily through their connection. 

 

Lance sighed as he stopped in front of her. His hands in his pockets and his hood up, he wasn’t sure if he could get up the nerve to even go through with it. And—in the back of his mind, he knew she had to know. Since he’d found out she’d been there, sliding into his consciousness twice as often as usual and with such—care, such support. 

 

Lance took his hands out of his pockets for just a moment as he stepped closer. “I uh,” he stammered. 

 

It was so dark. In castle time, it was the middle of the night, but Lance couldn’t get up the courage to come down before. Especially since he knew Pidge sometimes worked late and if she over heard—Lance swallowed. He couldn’t let his team down. He couldn’t be a burden on them. 

 

Looking down, his hands were shaking so he promptly pocketed them again. 

 

There was a resounding purr through him that managed to keep his knees from buckling. 

 

“I need to tell you something.” He whispered. She could hear him, he knew she could. Blue would always hear him. 

 

Suddenly over head Blue’s eyes lit up, illuminating the dark hangar and she gave a deep purr of encouragement again. 

 

Lance looked up at her, his voice suddenly feeling like it was fleeting. “I—“ He tried. 

 

He swallowed again and looked down. He felt as his lips trembled and his eyes started to get that feeling—that buzz just before he spilled tears everywhere. 

 

“I fucked up,” he gasped out. “I—it was my fault. We didn’t even think about protection and I didn’t ask him, god I didn’t tell him I’m not on anything—and I just—I didn’t think.” His hands shakily went to his face. “I’ve fucked up so bad, Blue.” 

 

Lance gasped for air as he stumbled to Blue’s leg, letting his head rest against the cool metal. He let himself fall against her almost immediately as he started to really cry. 

 

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered. “He’s going to hate me so much if I tell him.” 

 

Lance closed his eyes as he let the first sob wrack through him. 

 

“I can’t have him hate me.” His arms started to constrict around himself, maybe in effigy of keeping himself together. 

 

There was suddenly a rush of wind and movement around Lance, the force of it whipping his hood back from his face and he blinked rapidly as he looked up. 

 

Blue had crouched before him, jaw open and—inviting. She was inviting him in. 

 

It was—more than Lance had expected for some strange reason. 

 

So this time crying out of sheer relief, Lance shuffled his way forward and into the cool warmth Blue offered him.

 

As he curled in the cockpit chair, letting Blue prob and ask and worry over him Lance for the first time—he could do this. He had support. Someone out there still loved him and still cared. Even if he could barely stand, Blue was there and she was willing to be his rock. 

 

That’s all he needed. 

 

He’d make this work somehow. 

 

* * *

 

\- 14 weeks -

 

The battle was over. Lance smiled as he tugged the helmet off. Tucking his Bayard back on his belt, he finally allowed himself to breath. 

 

The ambush on them had been sudden. Pidge and himself had been caught out of their lions still. But with Keith blazing in there was little left of the Galra that had attacked. 

 

The ground shuddered as the Black Lion touched down as well. Lance looked up just as Shiro climbed out. 

 

“Everyone still doing alright?” Shiro asked. “Pidge, Lance, you two especially?” 

 

Lance sucked in breath as he saw Shiro—there were two suns on this planet and one was just so perfectly positioned. When Shiro removed his helmet, the refracted light from his white spindle of hair had Lance entranced. 

 

“I’m good,” he murmured, knowing with his helmet in his hands he probably wouldn’t be heard. 

 

“Shiro,” It was Keith’s gruff across the intercoms, coming from Lance’s helmet. “You should come look at this,” 

 

A few hundred feet away, Keith had already climbed from his lion. He was looking over at the small encampment for the Galra. They looked like they had been stranded strangely enough. There was no massive battle ship anywhere to be found that they could tell. 

 

It was possible the forces had crashed there on accident even, Lance thought. 

 

And what a strange planet indeed it was to be stranded on. It was an intensely red planet with most of the hollow looking brittle vegetation in rusty reds. The trees over head though blossomed in deep violets. Lance almost wanted to stop to marvel all of it. 

 

But as the rest of the team was convening he figured it was a good idea for himself to do the same. 

 

As he turned though, he caught it just at the edge of his vision—

 

His helmet hit the dirt as he reached back around for his bayard—but it was too late. With a shrill roar, the Galra was on him, pinning Lance to the ground. 

 

Lance landed with a gasped exhale, having been knocked back so hard the air pushed from his lungs. When Lance opened his eyes, he was staring straight into the yellow gaze of a snarling Galra. The Galra reared back over Lance, a black spear in hand as he pulled it back. 

 

No time to even scream, Lance’s hands instinctively went over his abdomen, trying so desperately to protect the one spot his armor didn’t cover. Lance wished at that moment so fiercely that it did. There was only an inch thick padded plate there… Coran had warned them once, it was to withstand hand to hand—the right knife or any blast fire would penetrate… 

 

Lance’s breath stopped. A spear would penetrate. 

 

There was a rush of wind and a sound like—thunder. Like a prowling great thunder. 

 

A massive black head slammed into the Galra. Like a bat hitting a baseball from a tee, the Galra was pitched back a good hundred feet before crashing to the red earth. 

 

Lance couldn’t breath as the Black Lion let out a thunderous roar over head and took one last shuddering step, situating it’s hulking form squarely over Lance. 

 

There was a hiss and Lance caught a glance just as Keith went after the Galra, thrusting his sword forward and through the Galra’s armor before the beast could properly regain its balance. 

 

With a huff, Lance collapsed back into the dirt once more. 

 

Red swirled around him. The dust kicked up from the movement was all around, a swirling fine mist of rust red to cloud over Lance. 

 

He tried to raise a hand—it was shaking. 

 

He’d—he’d almost lost it—he’d almost lost the one thing—the only thing he should have been protecting. His hands fisted over his stomach, clutching at the black fabric. 

 

“What the—“ It was Shiro’s voice that drew Lance’s attention away. 

 

As carefully as Lance could manage, he pushed up from the red earth, one hand was still clutched over his stomach as Lance stood. 

 

Less then ten feet away—Shiro stared at Lance. The red dust parted just perfectly as with swift and precise steps he cut through to Lance. 

 

As Lance straightened fully, Shiro’s gaze only narrowed on him. 

 

“Lance!” Hunk was already jogging towards him.

 

Welcoming the distraction, Lance looked away from Shiro! 

 

Hunks wide eyes was enough to tell Lance he wasn’t the only one stunned senseless about what had just happened. 

 

“Are you alright?” Hunk asked. 

 

Lance finally, slowly dropped his hand from over his stomach. “Y-yeah.” Lance said. “I’m fine.” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Shiro’s voice startled Lance, bringing his gaze back. 

 

Shiro stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “Your stomach—you were holding at it, you’re not hurt, right?” 

 

Lance almost instantaneous and robotically straightened, both his hands at his sides. “I’m—I’m okay. It’s all okay.” 

 

Hunk finally slid to a stop at him with Pidge skidding in next to him. “Man, that was crazy! I didn’t know they could do that!” 

 

“Have you ever seen one of the lions do that?” Pidge exclaimed, though to whom exactly it was unclear. 

 

“No.” Shiro answered as he took a few more steps closer. “None of the Lions ever have.” 

 

Still gulping down breath, Lance gazed up at the lion over him. She couldn’t—Lance shook his head. It wasn’t possible… 

 

“Maybe we should get you to the med bay,” It was Keith as he came up from behind. “You don’t look so stable on your feet,” Keith's critical eyes were on Lance.

 

Scanners were at the med bay. 

 

“No.” Lance blurted possibly too fast. 

 

A tick of silence set in. 

 

Shiro went to move closer, “Keith is right, maybe you should just get looked over—“ Shiro’s hand reached out, reaching for Lance’s shoulder. 

 

“NO!” Lance shot away. 

 

Shiro froze. 

 

Lance stalled for just a minute before he managed to break into a laugh. “I mean come on guys! I’m obviously doing better than ever!” he tried to scratch back behind his head nervously. “I hate those healing pods, they make me feel all woozy afterwards.” 

 

There was no comment, but Shiro’s gaze narrowed on Lance, his hand still outstretched to him. 

 

Thankfully, Pidge drew attention away as she spoke up. “How in the world did the Black Lion even manage that?” 

 

Hunk turned to Pidge, “Maybe Shiro saw something and it was feeding off a move he would have made? Like some sort of telepathy?” 

 

Keith sighed as he walked past on his way back to the ship. “Or it’s the Black Lion, it’s the head of Voltron—it’s the things job to keep all the Paladins safe.” 

 

“Her,” Shiro corrected, though his eyes were still on Lance. 

 

It was an opportune moment, and Lance seized it, scurrying out from Shiro’s thunder storm gaze. He spoke up. “I think you all are missing the most obvious answer here—I’ve simply managed to charm yet another beautiful, fierce woman into swooning for me!” 

 

There were groans from all around—but for once in Lance life, he welcomed it whole heartedly. it was familiar. He could work with familiar. 

 

* * *

 

When Lance had snuck in through the med bay doors, it had seemed like a good idea to leave all the lights off—Well until Lance started rooting around. The compact data pad he had lit up as Lance tapped it. Using the soft blue glow, Lance went about looking for the scanner. 

 

It was—he felt fine. He was at most maybe bruised from the ambush and subsequent attack that morning. That didn’t stop Lance’s mind from racing though. 

 

Impact was bad for him, right? It had to be. And that Galra had slammed into Lance hard enough to knock the wind out of him. That could mean a problem. 

 

Lance just wanted to investigate—just a little. He just needed to make sure everything was okay. 

 

All he needed was that freaking scanner…

 

“Somethings off with you.”

 

A red glow burst into existence at the med bay doors. It illuminated a harsh set jaw and narrow deeply violet eyes. 

 

Hunched over the polished white station, it took Lance a heart beat or two to organize his thoughts. 

 

“I’m not so sure somethings not off with you,” Lance countered, striking up a pose, a hand on his hip and his feet kicked out to a fighter’s stance. “I mean I keep pointing out to you how atrocious that hair cut is and yet you still seem oblivious.” 

 

Keith’s boots made a hollow resounding sound as he approached. His steps were careful and the red glowing data compact controller in his hand was held up like a lantern. 

 

“Shiro’s worried about you.” Keith said like it was a threat. 

 

Lance turned with an eye roll. “Lying is unkind, Keith.” He tossed over his shoulder. 

 

“I’m not fooling around!” Keith hissed as he slunk to Lance’s side “He literally just asked me to keep an eye on you!” 

 

Lance blinked before barely managing to stifle the rising feeling in his chest. “That’s not the same as caring about me, Keith.” 

 

“You’re being thick headed over this,” Keith huffed. 

 

“Better than stuck in the eighties like some heads I know…” Lance muttered to himself mostly. 

 

Keith frowned, clearly catching Lance’s words. He crossed his arms as he looked Lance up and down. “What are you even doing in here? You told us all not to worry when we tried to get you here.” 

 

Lance waved up as if he could just sweep the matter entirely away. “Nothing’s wrong—I just needed some tweezers.” Lance leaned into Keith, pointing to his brow. “Do you see this brow line? It’s a god damn mess and I’ve come with intention of repairing it.” 

 

Keith leaned back aways from Lance, his eyes looking over his face. “They’re eyebrows.” 

 

“And they need shaped.” Lance tisked. 

 

“Don’t they shape themselves?” Keith gave ashrug. “They like—grow like that? Right?” 

 

“Oh god,” Lance sighed. “This is why you are the way you are.”

 

Keith’s face scrunched up. “Was that a side slam at me through my eye brows?” 

 

Lance plastered on his prettiest smile before commenting. “Keith, I would need a weed whacker if I had any hopes of taming your Neanderthal brows into something respectable.” 

 

Keith let out a huff so loud it echoed through the sterile and polished room. In the same moment, he threw his hands up, turning back around to the doors. “I just tried to talk!” he seemed to murmur to himself. “And I always tell my self just ask what you need and leave, but do I ever? No!” His mutterings turned more into growled groans as he started his way out of the room. 

 

“Good chat!” Lance called after him. “Let’s do brunch next time, kay?” 

 

Once the doors wooshed closed after Keith, Lance let out his first breath in what felt like solid minutes. His shoulders slacked back to relaxed, and he turned around to the cabinet he’d been rummaging through.

 

There had to be a scanner somewhere in the room. 

 

He nearly tripped over it. 

 

It had been sitting on one of the examination table tops the entire time. 

 

Lance snatched it up, pulling the large holo plate display near him, he tapped it on and made sure the scanner was synced before he propped himself to sit up on the examination table. 

 

He couldn’t read any of it, all strange Altean symbols and glyphs, but as Lance slid the scanner over his arm, he could hear the tell-tale sound of his own heart beat in a rhythmic, thum thum thum, coming from the read out. 

 

Hesitantly and carefully Lance laid back on the table, with the data screen facing him, he could still see the skipping line of his heart beat. 

 

This—it had just been a worry. He’d just needed to make sure after all…Lance needed to do something to ease his fears… 

 

But Lance’s hands shook as he tried to grasp the thin scanner wand. 

 

It was slow and a bit unsteady but eventually he managed to sweep the scanner to his abdomen. 

 

Lance’s breath stole for the third time that day. 

 

It was small, a second line popping up on the screen right under his own—just a thin skipping line—but it was there. 

 

Lance’s throat suddenly felt like it was cloying and he had to—

 

“Hi,” Lance managed. His free hand settled over his fast expanding belly. HIs fingers curled in over the pad of his armor. He’d been too nervous to remove it. 

 

His vision blurred and he sniffled as he looked down. Tapping a setting on the scanner, Lance’s heart beat was muted and in the space—it was so quiet, like a whisper. 

 

There was a thunk, as Lance’s head hit back on the examination table. His throat felt tight and he wasn’t sure—why was he crying again? 

 

He realized for once the few tears that streaked down his face were out of relief. 

 

“You’re okay,” Though who Lance was saying that to was left undefined. 

 

With another sniff, Lance cracked his eyes open, head lulling to the side so he could watch the small gentle skipping line he was working so hard for. 

 

It looked so fragile like that. 

 

“Lance?”

 

Nearly throwing the scanner, Lance bolted upright and scrambled to the get the scanner and the display plate turned off. 

 

By the time the doors whooshed open, Lance was still very much deer in the headlights—but he’d managed slam the scanner into a random drawer, and grasp a set of tweezers. 

 

Shiro paused as he stepped in. His shoulders seemed to drop with a sigh on his lips. “There you are.” 

 

Lances throat felt like it was constricting for entirely different and worse reasons this time. Was he really that much of a trouble maker? Did Shiro really feel the need to keep track of him like that before he fucked something up again—? 

 

The silence that answered Shiro seemed to prompt him a step forward. “Keith was muttering about you being here,” 

 

Lance jumped at the opportunity. “Yup!” He probably said a bit too eager. “Just you know in here—looking for tweezers. “ 

 

Lance held up the ones in his hands. “you know—like these ones… that I found. In here.” Lance nodded. “Just like Keith said!” Lance laughed. 

 

Shiro eyed the tweezers then looked back to Lance. “Right.” 

 

It fell quiet then. 

 

“Well—“ Lance cleared his throat. “I better get going.” 

 

“Wait a second,” Shiro held up his hand to stop him. “I came to see how you were doing.” 

 

“I’m fine.” Lance said so fast he almost cut Shiro off. 

 

Shiro’s mouth hung open and he looked at Lance—his eyes were so narrow as his gaze burned over Lance. “You’re avoiding me.” 

 

Lance looked squarely at Shiro, his chest puffing up just a fraction. “I’m not.” He very much was. 

 

Head already shaking, Shiro was taking a step forward. “Lance, please, I’m sorry—“

 

Lance hissed. “I said I didn’t want your apology!”

 

“Then what would you like from me?” Shiro snapped back. 

 

Lance head shot up. Eyes wide he stood a bit straighter. 

 

The change was immediate in Shiro’s demeanor. His shoulders sagged as he saw the shock roll over Lance. 

 

“No,” The frustration was still clear in his voice. “That’s not what I meant—Lance—“ 

 

“Nothing.” Lance hurriedly said. He was shacking his own head. “I want nothing from you.” 

 

Shiro’s mouth hung open a moment longer. His words seemed to be formulating for a few key moments. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just stressed right now—“

 

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. “ Lance hurriedly butt in. 

 

“I never meant to hurt you…” Shiro said quietly then. 

 

“…you didn’t.” Lance’s hands fisted at his sides. 

 

Blinking in the dark room across from one another, Lance could hear his heartbeat without the aide of the scanner this time.

 

“What is going on with you?” Shiro suddenly asked. 

 

“Nothing.” Lance shook his head. 

 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me.” Shiro’s voice sounded tired—worn thin and on his last nerve. 

 

Lance closed his eyes, and thickly swallowed down every ounce of emotion he could muster. “I’m not lying to you. I never have.” 

 

“You are.” Shiro sighed. 

 

Lance didn’t look at Shiro as he pushed his way past him to the door. “Well then, I’m not the one that lied first.” 

 

* * *

 

\- 18 weeks. - 

 

It happened at night or at least the castle’s scheduled night. All the lights were low and set to a soft blueish tint. Laying back, Lance finally felt relaxed for the first time in a while as he looked out at the stars. 

 

He was set up in a small nook Lance had discovered just a few weeks ago. It had a circular window set deep in the castle walls with a thick window seal, thick enough Lance could easily fit and recline back on the gentle curve. Once he’d brought out a few cushions and a blanket, it made the perfect little nest to curl up in, watching the slow move of stars, the burst of nebulas and the twinkle of galaxies. 

 

At sleeps doorstep, Lance dozed in his piled up cushions—and he almost missed it. 

 

Until it happened again. 

 

Lance’s eyes shot open. 

 

It was like—the fluttering of butterfly wings, so delicate and yet distinct enough Lance knew exactly what was happening. 

 

He sat up, his hand pressed to the abdomen that was quickly filing out. 

 

It happened then, right against his hand and Lance couldn’t help the breathless smile alighting to his lips. The movement was so small—but so monumental. It was the lightest pushing against him. 

 

Bounding from the tumble of blankets, Lance was almost running down the halls, he had to go show Shiro! This was amazing! He’d be so happy, Lance just knew it—

 

He pulled up to a stop as he rounded a corner. His hand dragging against the wall in effort to stop himself. 

 

Maybe this was why people were so stupid. Sense sluggishly sunk back into Lance. Why was common sense always the last thing showing up to a party? Lance wished at that moment he knew the punchline. 

 

He slumped against the wall, his hands both curling over his belly. There was another jab, pressed up against his fingers. 

 

He would never show this to Shiro. He’d never speak a word of it to him. No, the way Shiro already looked at him every time Lance pulled out of training early was enough. There was no love lost between the two of them. And Lance didn’t know if he could bare the way Shiro would look at him once he knew—he realized Lance had messed up again, and in a big way this time. 

 

It was better this way after all. 

 

Leaning his head back against the wall, the ache was still there though. He wanted to feel Shiro’s big hand slide across his abdomen. If—if it had all been different, would Shiro smile at the first little flutter? Lance would bet his life on it Shiro would smile. It would be one of those rare smiles too, the kind he gave Keith or Allura or sometimes Pidge. It would be wide and white teeth would peak at Lance. His eyes would spark with that lightning Lance loved to watch in his stormy gaze. He may even look at Lance like that for a moment, look him straight in the eye before glancing down at the hand over his stomach again. 

 

Lance threw an arm over his face as he let himself sink a bit more against the wall. Great, he was fucking crying again. 

 

It wasn’t till he felt the distant tug, like a tiny string pulling at his chest, that Lance took in a full breath, eyes opening fully—

 

There was someone he could show. Someone he knew would revel in excitement with him. Someone that would wanna feel and wait and feel again. 

 

Blue. 

 

It took a few minutes, but Lance finally brought himself back up on his feet. 

 

Blue had embraced the idea from the first instant, pouring out love and excitement to Lance. And it was the one place he felt like he wanted to be at that moment. 

 

* * *

 

\- 20 weeks -

 

_“Form Voltron!”_

 

That was always the back up plan. It has always worked—until one blue streak had fallen from the sky. 

 

Lance staggered out of Blue. He— 

 

He ripped off the helmet, gasping at breath. How—he’d fucked up. 

 

The ground shook as near him the Red Lion touched down, but it was nothing compared to the boom as Black’s great paws slammed into the earth and made Lance shake down to his bones. 

 

Lance managed to look up, still trying to pull in breath. He tipped his head to see Keith was expertly and very hastily climbing down from Red. Once he was on the ground, Lance looked straight at Keith—but Keith was looking behind Lance. 

 

Whirling around, Lance’s hands fell away from his hair. 

 

Shiro wasn’t like Keith, he wasn’t running but the charging stride to Lance was enough to sent Lance staggering back a few steps. 

 

It was barely enough before Shiro was in his face—

 

“What the fuck was that?” 

 

Lance’s jaw felt like it was barely connected for all his mouth hung open. “I’m—“ he tried. “I’m so sorry.” 

 

“You.” Shiro’s booming, raging voice speared through Lance as his hand shot out to grasp Lance’s armor. “You could have just killed all of us!” 

 

“I don’t—“ Lance shook his head. “I never—“ His mind couldn’t even come up with the words. 

 

In a flash Keith was there. He slammed into Shiro, using both hands he pushed him away from Lance. “It’s not his fault!” Keith snarled. 

 

Shiro’s face slide from shocked to cold rage faster than Lance had ever seen. “Keith,” He said darkly. “This isn’t about you.” 

 

Keith widened his stance before Lance. “And this isn’t about you!” He hollered back to Shiro. but it was only a millisecond before he was glaring back at Lance.

 

Lance could already feel himself shaking. 

 

“Were you not just present?” Shiro advanced a step, this time looking at Keith though before he gestured to Lance. “We dropped out of a Voltron Formation—Lance dropped out.” 

 

“So did you!” Keith roared back. “Right after him! I felt it too! You plummeted after him!” 

 

Shiro’s eyes burned at Keith. His nose flared as his face twisted into a snarl. “Keith.” 

 

Keith already had a hand to his bayard. “You dropped too!” 

 

“If this was a real fight, we’d be dead!” Shiro growled. He gestured to Lance with a raised arm. “He could have just cost all our lives!” 

 

“And you would have still spiraled in after him!” Keith never one to back down hissed back in Shiro’s face. 

 

“He’s my responsibility!” 

 

“Than why did you let him fall in the first place?” 

 

“Keith!” The roar ripped through the air and had Lance nearly staggering to his knees, every omega instinct in him screaming— _submit submit submit…_

 

“You’ve caused this too!” Keith’s voice boomed into his own Alpha tone. “Don’t act like it’s not all this shit between the two of you mucking things all up!” 

 

Shiro growled so low it seemed to vibrate through Lance. 

 

Staggering away from the conflict, Lance gave a whimper. His mind raced at blinding speed. Why had he dropped? He shouldn’t have dropped! There—something—there was a pain, in his abdomen… god, why had he dropped? 

 

The stench of Alpha was already thick in the air as Shiro hunched his shoulders and his hands fisted at his sides. 

 

“Move.”

 

Keith just set his heels in more. “Why?” He hissed. “So you can take it out on him?” His eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you try taking it out on me instead?” 

 

“Lance is mi—“ Shiro’s stopped, swallowing, the clenched muscles of his jaw jumping with clear furry,before he shook his head. “He’s my responsibility.” 

 

“Than why are you acting like he’s your problem!” Keith snapped. His bayard flared to life and formed into his short sword. 

 

Shiro shifted his own stance, his arm going back and the Galra runes and intricate patterns already alighting at dizzying speed. 

 

“That’s enough!” Allura’s voice cut through the fog like she was parting the red sea. 

 

Startled, Lance wasn’t sure when he’d crumbled to his knees, but shakily he looked up to see his team mates. Allura stood strong as Hunk rushed forward to him. 

 

Lance’s world was still— _Alpha._ All he could smell was Keith and Shiro and—they were fighting. They were angry. He didn’t want them to be angry. 

 

“Lance!” 

 

The moment he was engulfed in Hunk, Lance broke and he gasped for air—air that smelled like his friend, like concern and love and anything but the men behind him. 

 

“I didn’t—“ Lance clutched at his friend’s arms. “I didn’t mean to.” Lance shook his head. 

 

Hunk was shaking his own head. “What happened out there?” 

 

What had happened…? Lance looked down. He stared straight down to his knees. He—they were too close. He couldn’t let them in, he just remembered they were too close—

 

“I don’t know.” Lance shook his head. It was the closest thing he could put to words. 

 

“Lance, this is not the time, your lack of discipline has already cost—“

 

Hunk was standing before Shiro could even finish. He was only a Beta but If Shiro’s odds against Keith were 50/50, his odds against Keith and Hunk were dismal at best. 

 

Shiro stopped in his tracks. Lance could see the way his chest heaved though his eyes going from Keith to Hunk to finally rest on Lance. 

 

“I think we should all just take a cool down.” Hunk said slowly. 

 

Keith took a step towards Lance. 

 

“All of us!” Hunk said firmly as he side stepped. 

 

“Wha—“ Keith swore under his breath and crossed his arms. 

 

Hunk just crossed his arms in return.

 

“Fine,” Keith hissed. 

 

* * *

 

They stayed that night on the planet. Shiro had stormed off towards the castle after pitching his helmet into the dirt so hard Lance was surprised it wasn’t cracked. 

 

As night for the planet fell, Lance trailed out to on the grassy plaines of the planet. They hadn’t moved the lions. Things were—no one had spoke much to each other since everything had happened. Trailing through the grass, Lance saw Shiro’s helmet still in the dirt. 

 

Stopping just a foot or so away before the black topped helmet, Lance considered—before dipping to retrieve the hemet. He still wore the black padded under-suit of his armor—it hid everything so well he didn’t take it off often around his teammates anymore. He used the long sleeve to wipe off and polish the helmet in his hands. 

 

“You’re tearing this team apart, Sharpshooter.”

 

Lance looked up from the black helmet as a small breeze picked up. At an easy gait, Keith was already on Lance’s trail. 

 

Lance shook his head. “I never—I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out…” 

 

As Keith was finally to him, he heaved a sigh. “I’m not Shiro.” He grumbled. “And I don’t mean today.” 

 

The statement hung in the air, like a blade just over Lance’s head. He looked back down at the helmet in his hands. In the clean parts, the smooth surface reflected the deep violet moon looming over head. 

 

“I’ll figure it out…” Lance repeated. 

 

There was more silence before Keith stepped up again, this time close enough Lance couldn’t ignore him. 

 

“He’s frustrated.” Keith said as his eyes moved down to the helmet as well. 

 

With a frown, Lance gave a short nod. “Yeah, I know.” 

 

“You’re making it worse.” Keith's monotone was accompanied with his signature arm crossing. 

 

Lance glared up. “He’s the one that keeps railing on me!” 

 

“You won’t let him get to the heart of it!” Keith snapped back. “The whole damn castle knows what the two of you are still fighting over!” 

 

“It was nothing!” Lance gasped exasperated. “And I keep trying to tell him that! He’s not listening to me!” 

 

“And I bet you’re not listening to him either,” Keith rolled his eyes. 

 

Lance huffed as his face pinched in a frown as he looked away. “I wish he’d just quit bringing it all up.” He managed to exhale in a calmer tone. “He won’t let it go.” 

 

The sigh Keith gave next to him was like a razor blade across Lance’s spine. 

 

“He’s Shiro, Lance.” Keith said quietly. 

 

Boy, did Lance know it. 

 

”He doesn’t let shit go if he feels like its unresolved.” 

 

“You mean everyone else’s, right?” Lance mumbled moodily. 

 

Keith frowned. “Yeah—he uh, he’s not the greatest at dealing with his own issues.” There was a pause. “Or his feelings.” another pause. “Or you know, he doesn’t even deal with other peoples feelings all that well either sometimes.” Keith awkwardly scratched at the side of his face. 

 

Lance was smiling though. Even half heartedly, he still couldn’t help but smile, his thumbs running over the black helmet in his hands. “I don’t think he really cares that much for feelings.” His throat had that cloying feeling again, like it was closing up on him without his permission. 

 

Keith let out another long sigh. “And you’re the one that keeps saying it was nothing…” 

 

Lance kept his eyes averted from Keith. “…it was nothing from his end of things.” 

 

“He’s awfully angry about nothing then.” 

 

Lance turned at that. He was sore enough from this wound, he didn’t need Keith dragging it all back open. “He’s angry because I’m fucking up the one thing he needs to run perfectly smooth.” 

 

Bringing it up—when Keith’s eyes flicked to Lance, there was enough there… Lance looked away. 

 

“What happened?” There was no judgement in Keith’s tone. 

 

Lance shook his head. “I don’t know.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Maybe I just screwed it up to remind everyone of my true potential.” 

 

When Lance peaked up, Keith’s eyes were searching over him, 

 

Abruptly, maybe in an effort to make it stop, Lance offered up the helmet. “Here,” He murmured. “He’ll probably want this back.” 

 

Keith hesitated, though his arms unfolded. “Maybe you should return it to him.” 

 

Lance offered it out closer. “No.” He said simply. 

 

A long moment of silence followed, and with a huff Keith finally took the helmet. 

 

“He wants to talk to you,” Keith gruffed. 

 

Lance looked back away, away to the stars, and Blue only a few feet away from them. “He always just tries to tell me the same thing.” 

 

“Then maybe try listening this time?” Keith growled. 

 

Lance gave another sad smile. “I don’t want what he’s trying to give me.” 

 

“He’s trying to make it okay with you!” Keith threw the helmet up and caught it. “You’re right, he wants this Voltron thing to work so he’ll do what ever it takes to make it function.” 

 

“I know,” Lance said softly. 

 

Why did it just feel like he was mowing Lance over in the process? 

 

This time it was Lance who crossed his arms. “Things will get better,” he wasn’t sure who he was saying it to. “We’ll figure it out.” 

 

Keith just huffed again. “You know, for being such a loud mouth—you avoid talking about real issues just as much a he does,” 

 

Lance chocked out a laugh. “It’s a match,” he joked. 

 

Keith mumbled to himself as he turned away. Just barely audible, Lance caught. “stupid people.” 

 

At least one person never changed, Lance mused to himself. 

 

* * *

 

\- 21 weeks - 

 

“I don’t—“ He gulped down air, “ feel good,” Lance clenched his folded hands over his stomach. 

 

The armor, surprisingly hid everything perfectly. The rest of Lance’s cloths looked like a disaster on him, forcing him into baggy hoodies and sweatpants the rest of the time, but between the breast plate and tight constricting black suit, there was no tell of his condition. 

 

And at that moment he was supremely glad for it. 

 

Shiro’s brow knit as he looked down at Lance, his own armor fit him nicely as usually—filling out his already broad frame to the maximum and making him appear even larger, more imposing. 

 

And all six feet, two inches of him was glowering down at Lance. 

 

“This is the third day in a row.” Shiro said, his voice grave with irritation. 

 

Lance winced at the tone. He’d tried. He’d gotten out of bed and pulled his armor on, convinced he just needed to get going, just needed to get up and showered and he’d be fine. It was just lingering morning sickness. But even after Lance had thrown up, he still felt achy. His head was still spinning and he still- he clutched over his abdomen harder. 

 

“I know,” Lance said. “I’m sorry!” 

 

Shiro’s first response was a sigh. Deep and not in the least bit trying to hide his disappointment. “Lance, you’re missing training a lot lately.” He shook his head. “I need you to be committed to this—“

 

“I am!” Lance tried, cutting in. 

 

There was a flare suddenly. But Shiro killed it fast as he gazed at Lance. 

 

Lance might have been afraid of him at some point. An omega interrupting an Alpha was an old fashioned no-no, but that still didn’t mean it was always met well. If it hadn’t of been Shiro, it might have been met with a growl. But Lance had bigger fears than a growl.

 

“I’m just—sick,” Lance tried. “Just let me get over it today.”

 

Shiro shook his head. “You said that yesterday,” He looked back where the rest of the team were talking with each other. “Lance, we need you. There’s no Voltron without all of us, You need to start syncing with the team.” 

 

Lance knew that. Thank god, they hadn’t mind melded since everything had started happening, though Lance suspected Shiro had other motives for not wanting that. 

 

“I promise,” Lance pleaded. “I’ll pull double trainings next week.” 

 

“Right,” It was said with the slightest of snorts. Like Shiro didn’t believe Lance, like it was just another story to get out of responsibility. 

 

Lance opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say to defend himself. “I’m trying,” was all he managed. 

 

“You’re flaking,” Shiro growled. It was a growl for real this time, laced with his agitation. 

 

Distantly Hunk’s shoulders dropped and he looked over. 

 

Looking up at Shiro’s stormy gaze, Lance almost wanted to curl into a tight ball. He closed his eyes, trying to think his way through this. 

 

It was only going to get worse from here on out. Lance wasn’t even quite half way through. And his condition was not treating him well. He almost wanted to laugh. How in the world had his mother done this seven times? 

 

“These people are depending on you!” Shiro’s voice boomed out through the training room. 

 

For possibly the first time, the others all looked up and over at them. 

 

Not knowing what to say, Lance just hunched his shoulders more, his gaze averted to the floor. 

 

“You’re slacking off more all the time, Lance,” Shiro’s voice had lowered but his tone was still just as vicious. “Sometimes I doubt if you are taking any of this seriously.” 

 

A thousand things raced through Lance’s head but none of it came to his lips as he opened his mouth. 

 

Keith had already broken from the group and with Hunk flanking they made their way over. 

 

“Fine,” Shiro huffed, his eyes flicked signaling he’d noticed as well Keith was already on the prowl to them. “But I expect you to hold to your promise about next week.” 

 

Lance felt like he was shaking apart, but he still managed to stagger forward. “I’m sorry,” He murmured. 

 

A part of him—he still wanted Shiro to care—Lance felt the gaping hole of his disappointment so acutely. 

 

Shiro turned to look at Lance, but as he shook his head and started back towards the rest of the team—Lance knew Shiro had already written him off. 

 

Keith was on Shiro in a second, Lance catching a, “Lay off,” but Shiro’s fists still clenched as he seemed to ignore his younger friend. 

 

Hunk lingered close by, looking to Lance. But Lance raised a hand waving him back to return to training. 

 

He had wanted a shower. His skin for some reason felt gross, and sweaty. But—somehow his feet had taken him to the hangers. 

 

Blue purred through his consciousness the moment he’d stepped inside. 

 

She nudged around his edges a bit, inquiring about himself and then—the littler one. 

 

As Lance sunk into the pilot seat and curled around his knees, he let her presence wash over him. 

 

He quirked a smile. She was concerned and her essence coddled around Lance. She inquired if it had moved at all lately. Lance shook his head. It’s been a week or so since he’d felt movement again. 

 

A new wave of concern rushed a bit more over Lance. 

 

It was—it made him at least a bit happy. She was so excited for the new life. She was possibly the only one that found it all so terribly wonderful. But still—at least it was someone. 

 

Curling in on his side, Lance let Blue slowly lull him off to sleep. He’d feel better with some sleep. He just knew it. It was just some lingering morning sickness. Once he could get back on his feet he’d be able to power through it all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I thought the first chapter was gonna get like—two comments. It’s my side hoe fic and it’s kind of a weird concept after all and like I wasn’t sure if anyone would wanna read that much pain in general and yeh…Then—you guys gave me a huge response I definitely didn’t expect. I hope the rest of the story I have written can live up to all of your expectations. 
> 
> Also [King](https://twitter.com/kingsdoodles) made some fucking [rad art](https://twitter.com/kingsdoodles/status/850526706737623040) if ya'll wanna take a gander.  
>  
> 
> You can [Bother me here on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) or [Stalk me here on My Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foewarning: On like a scale of 1-10 on the sadness, this chapters a 15.

\- 22 weeks -

It hurt. It hurt so bad. Lance frowned and whined and curled farther in on himself.

Lance had crammed himself back through the servants halls, curling up between pipes and wires and hidden in the dark. This was—it felt safe. It felt like he was away from anyone seeing him.

Dealing with it all was getting harder. It didn’t help that Lance had no idea what he was doing. Wasn’t it all just supposed to come naturally?

Lance groaned as another bout of pain went through him. It convulsed through him, constricting through his midsection and all the way down to his groin. He wasn’t even half way through. Cringing, Lance pulled himself in as tight as he could over his stomach. The muscles all through his stomach were hard, tense and unyielding. He hadn’t even started truly showing. This had to be normal. He just had to get through it.

With a panted groan, he wiped his hand over his head. He felt hot and sweaty. It had to be the small space he’d crammed himself into.

“Lance?”

Jerking his head up, Lance could just barely see through the cracks of the small space he’d crawled into. It was Pidge.

“H-hey,” Lance started.

“What’s wrong?” Pidge was already climbing into the small space, weaving through wiring and pipes. “Why are you down here?”

Why was Lance here? Why the hell was Pidge here?

“I just—“ Lance groaned again as there was another intense slam of pain. Lance gritted his teeth at the feeling and whined before it finally let up. Why wasn’t it stopping? It alway stopped before. He wanted it to stop. “I just wanted to be alone.” Lance tried when he could finally blink past the pain.

Pidge was already onto him though, and her wide eyes looked even bigger through the lens of her glasses. “Lance—you don’t look good.”

Lance huffed a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I always look good.”

Pidge was reaching forward though pressing her hand to his forehead then his cheek. “You’re really warm.” She sounded worried.

Fuck. Lance gulped past the pain and pulled on a smile—grimace, it turned into a grimace fast. Oh god, it hurt!

“I’m going to go get someone,”

Lance snatched up at her hoodie. “No, please, Pidge no!”

Stopping, she looked over at him, her brow creased. “You need a healing pod, Lance. You’re sick.”

“I’m not,” Lance shook his head. “Please just leave—forget I was here.” He tried a smile. “I’ll be just fine okay. It’s just weak omega stuff.”

The look Pidge’s expression shifted into was enough to stop a freight train in its tracks. She pulled from Lance’s grasp and scrambled out.

“I’ll be back in a tick or so. I’m getting Keith.”

Lance whined. “Please, no, Pidge!” He called after her.

But it was only a couple of seconds before she was out into the open halls and disappeared from Lance’s sight.

Panic finally set in once she was gone. She was going to get Keith. This was bad. If Pidge didn’t take no for an answer, Keith certainly wouldn’t. Uncurling, Lance started to weakly pull himself out. He just needed to get to his room. He could lock himself in and wait it out. He should have done that before it was just—he was in his room so much lately. He just wanted somewhere different.

He collapsed to the floor, clutching at his stomach as the pain hit again. Why? Why was it this bad now?

He couldn’t go into a healing pod. They’d know. Or at least Coran would. With all the data that thing spewed forth it would only take a ‘wait, a second there’s two heart beats not just one’ and Lance would be caught.

Even more, Shiro would find out. Shiro would know. The others would know it was Shiro’s—

“Lance!”

Looking up, Lance almost broke into tears.

That familiar mullet was already squeezing through the pipes to get to Lance. “How the hell did you get back here?”

Keith was sweaty and wearing the black skin-tight shirt he always wore when he was training. His Bayard was even haphazardly still on his hip.

“No,” Lance groaned. “I’m fine!” he tried desperately. “I’m okay, just leave me alone."

“Stop being dumb,” Keith growled as he went to his knees at Lance’s side. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing!” Lance gasped.

But he let out a cry as the pain surged through him again, paralyzing through his abdomen and lower back. On instinct he curled tight again, hands fisting in his jacket as he pressed them over his middle.

“Oh woah,” Keith breathed.

His hand was on Lance’s shoulder as he rolled him just a bit, looking down on him. “God, you’re hotter than a damn stove top. We gotta get you to a healing pod.”

“Do we need Hunk?” Pidge asked, she crouched over Lance. Possibly the most worried he’d ever seen her.

Keith nodded. “Yeah, you go get him, I’ll get Lance out of this maze and Hunk can help me carry him up to the med bay.”

“No this is just stupid omega stuff,” Lance whined. “I promise I’m fine,”

Keith exhaled slowly before nodding to Pidge. “Go get him.”

“Shiro too?” Pidge asked.

“If you see him, but Lance needs to be there faster than we need a third hand. If you see Coran or Allura tell them to get to the med bay. Lance needs a pod as soon as we can get him into one.” Keith reaffirmed.

Lance knew he was crying at that point but he still tried to reach out and stop Pidge. “I’m fine,” He whined. “I’m fine.”

“Lance,” It was quite possibly the softest Keith had ever spoken to him. “You’re not, I know you’re not.”

Lance whined again. “Just omega stuff.”

Keith nodded over him. “I might have believed that—but,” he glanced up, making sure Pidge was already well on her way out to get help. “Lance, you’re bleeding.”

 

* * *

 

Tears were at an endless stream down Lance’s face as Keith pulled him from the maintenance crawl space, hoisting him up and out.

Lance looked back over his shoulder. Keith had been right. His sweatpants from the groin down were stained with dark red blood and he’d smeared some across the metal floor.

“Come on,” Keith tried to help him to stand.

Shying away though, Lance shook his head. “No,” He whined past the tears. “I’m gross.”

Keith looked so pained when Lance spoke. “Why would I care about that right now?” he shook his head. “I’m getting you help.” He said it like it was a threat, like there was nothing Lance could do to stop it.

With a trembling expression though, Lance still tried to pull away.

“You don’t understand,” He said. “I can’t get into a healing pod.” he shook his head. “I just can’t. Just help me back to my room. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

Lance almost broke into another sob at that voice. It was Hunk.

He was already halfway bent over Lance before, with some help from Keith, he was hoisted up into the air.

Pidge popped in and around worriedly. “I found Coran on the way, he sent a message out to Allura and Shiro, they’ll meet us at the med bay.”

“Good work Pidge." Keith nodded in her direction, sliding Lance securely into Hunks arms. “You got him?”

Hunk nodded, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Lance cried out, though trying to stifled it, as another pain this time speared through him.

“You’ll be okay, buddy.” Hunk said. He was walking so fast with Lance he was almost jogging.

Keith was keeping up as well as he pushed a hand through Lance’s sweaty hair. “We’re almost there. you’re gonna be fine.”

But he wasn’t. The whole—god, the whole fucking team was here and they’d all know and Lance—he was already so worthless to them.

His lips trembled as he broke into another sob, turning as best he could to cram his face into Hunk. He couldn’t even stand. There was no hope of getting away. He was about to wreck everything and he just—

“Lance!” That voice.

It was frantic as Shiro met them at the bay door.

“What happened?” Shiro directed the question to Keith.

“We found him like this in the service corridors. He won’t tell us.” Keith said as he hurriedly opened the door.

With a whoosh, Coran had joined them as well.

“Get him back up onto an examination table!” Coran pointed.

“No!” Lance screamed and he clutched at Hunk. “Please, I can’t go into a pod!”

“It’s okay,” It was Keith at Lance’s side again. “We’re just gonna look you over first, see what’s wrong.”

Lance was still spilling tears everywhere and as Hunk placed him on the table, He felt the slick wetness of his blood already soaking through the tissue paper covering the table. This couldn’t be happening.

He knew it was stupid. But—he covered his face. He was so embarrassed. His team was seeing him like this—so weak and disgusting—Lance whined out another sob. He couldn’t even get himself to stop crying.

Coran already had a scanner ready and was coming towards Lane.

It was his last chance, Lance figured and so even as Hunk held him up, he turned to Shiro. He knew he looked horrible, his cloths blood stained and his face a wreck and dripping with tears, but he still managed to catch Shiro’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry.” He managed past a sob.

Shiro was already at his side, his hand moving through Lance’s hair. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” He said assured before he nodded to Coran to start the scan. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I should have done something the first time you told me you didn’t feel well instead of getting mad.”

“No,” Lance whined. “You don’t understand.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed but with a glance at Keith he gently directed Lance’s face towards him. “There’s something wrong with you, Lance. We’re gonna fix it. You’ll be alright.”

“I never wanted you to find out,” Lance just kept crying. Would he ever run out of tears? He had to be dry by now right? With all the fluid his body was losing, he had to run dry at some point. “I tried.”

Shiro just tipped his head, still so unsure.

That’s when Coran went still. Looking at the holographic monitor that had popped up at the examination tables side, he went very still.

“Coran?” Keith asked.

They were all crowded around the table, even Pidge who had pushed a chair in to sit up close to Lance’s side.

“Lance,” Coran looked down at him.

Lance didn’t look up, he just tried to curl in on his side, which only got him stopped by a firm hand on his hip from Shiro. He closed his eyes and frowned deeply.

“I think it would be better coming from you,” Coran said quietly.

Lance just shook his head. “No.” he tried. “Just send them away.”

Shiro next to him was pulling up to his full height, though his hands had returned to Lance’s face. “What is it?” he gaze flicked down at Lance before back up at Coran.

The older man seemed to shift for a moment, weighing his options.

“Coran,” Allura came forward, she had stepped up closer to Keith.

There was a moment of silence and Lance struck his hand out to grasp at Coran’s arm. “No,” he breathed, hoping so badly his plea would be met.

Pidge was coming forward though, peering over Coran’s shoulder. Her brow furrowed before she gasped. Her eyes shot wide behind her glasses and her shoulders slumped, her mouth agape.

Right. Pidge was the only one of the team that could read Altean.

“Lance,” She said as she trailed back to him.

Coran just frowned. “I’m sorry. I have to tell them.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut as Pidge found his hand and fiercely intertwined their fingers, holding his hand like his life depended on it.

“Lance—was with child.” Coran said very slowly.

The room dipped into a dangerous silence. Shiro’s hands fell away from Lance. He instead looked to Coran, his gaze somewhat unbelieving.

Lance cried out suddenly then. Pain shot through him and his hand in Pidge’s clutched horribly tight. She didn’t even seem to mind, stepping closer as her brow set. Her other hand even coming up to cup over their clasped hands.

“That would be another contraction,” Coran quickly started to move. He was digging around, popping open drawers of medical supplies and bring out what looked like the Altean version of a hospital gown. “Help me start to get him into this, will ya number 5?”

“No,” Lance panicked. “It’s too soon!”

Pidge gave a nod though and reached forward already unzipping his hoodie.

“Wait!” Hunk stepped forward. “What—what did you mean—‘was’ with child?”

Coran didn’t stop his movements and Pidge snatched up a pair of scissors already clipping Lance’s shirt away.

Shiro raised his head at that, looking up, with a hard expression his brow low and his mouth a tight thin line.

Allura gasped from next to them, maybe connecting the dots first, maybe finally looking at the monitor. “Oh, Lance.”

Laying back, Lance just let himself cry again as he let Pidge undress him. “Please take them out.”

Pidge nodded. “We can do that.”

“No,” Shiro’s deep Alpha command resounded in the room. “What did you mean ‘was?’ “

Hunk stepped forward again, his hands were fidgety but he looked at Coran. They were all looking at Coran. Except Pidge. She pressed a cool rag to Lance’s head, wiping the sweat away as she appeared to be graciously waiting for the others to leave before she started on Lances blood soaked sweatpants.

Shiro didn’t move where he stood, a hand even coming up to rest on the table-bed over Lance’s head as he leaned in, eyes trained on Coran across from him.

Coran gave a sigh. “It appears Lance has a pelvic infection. It’s not fairly uncommon with his condition, but it’s gotten bad and—it’s caused the baby to—to die. It happens much earlier than this usually, when the cells can be broken up and be given up without labor. But Lance is too far along and will need to deliver his very tiny fetus and his body is trying to help him with that right now.”

He looked down at Pidge. “I need him undressed, number 5. We need to make sure he’s dilated.”

Shiro was stock still over Lance.

Lance closed his eyes, swallowing thickly with resounding effort. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He was breaking into a sob again.

“You’re sure?” Shiro asked. His deep black eyes were unreadable as he looked at Coran. “It’s dead? You’re sure?” His voice was unnaturally steady and his tone held a roiling undercurrent of demand.

Coran nodded. “Yes.” He heaved a sigh. “From the levels of his vitals it looks like it’s been dead for quite some time.”

Lance broke then, gasping for air. “No,” he whined. His head tipped forward, but all he could see past his blurry tear streaked vision was his blood stains. “No.” he repeated.

“Lance,” Hunk was coming forward. His hands out to Lance as he approached the table.

“I think it might be best if we all leave Coran and Pidge to care for him…” Allura started.

“I’m not leaving him.” Shiro’s voice was quiet as he looked down at Lance.

Refusing to look at him, Lance tried to find a place to look that didn’t have one of his team members faces.

“Lance,” Shiro spoke again and his hand was back to Lance’s face, back to tipping his chin towards him. His touch was light, possibly the gentlest Lance had ever gained from him.

Reluctant, Lance did finally look at the alpha, finally letting himself be seen.

“…it is, isn’t it?” Shiro asked, leaning down farther over Lance.

Lance knew what he was asking. They all probably had figured it out. For all his flirting, it wasn’t like Lance was all that successful at all.

He closed his eyes as he gave short nod and repeated. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was—“ He cried out as another contraction hit him.

“Pidge!” Coran hollered and was already working his way over.

“On it,” Pidge hollered and was already running the scissors up the leg of Lance’s sweatpants.

Shiro moved a bit out of the way, but closer to Lance. He reached out and pulled up a stool, gently cupped his hand over Lance’s, taking the shaking slender hand between both of his own.

 

* * *

 

In the end, no one left the room. Hunk had stayed over Lance’s head, telling him he was doing awesome and they were almost done, his big hand petting over Lance’s sweaty hair. Pidge ran around obeying every command given as Coran went about the procedure before she regularly returned to Lance’s side at intervals to clutch at his hand again.

Keith was close as well, nodding to Lance every time their eyes met. Allura clutched at Keith as she worried over Lance’s shoulder.

And Shiro—Shiro didn’t move. He stayed at Lance’s side. An unmovable rock, he said less than a handful of words as he held onto Lance’s hand. As it went on, Lance’s hand ended up winding up over Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro accommodated, stroking down Lance’s arms and holding at him still as he leaned forward every now and then to press his forehead into Lance.

Then finally it was over. Coran informed them that Lance had dilated properly and the child was out of him after the induced labor. He’d be bleeding more through out the next week or so as his womb rid itself of any of the left overs, but with antibiotics and the dead child gone—Lance should feel better.

Relieved, there was a clear sigh from the whole team and Hunk and Pidge both hugged close to Lance, Allura murmuring something to Keith as Keith gave a relieved smile.

“Where is it?” Shiro spoke finally to Coran.

Coran seemed a bit surprised but nodded as he turned.

Lance sat up a bit with aide of Hunk behind him so he could see as well. Hunk even shifted the table head up, setting it at an upright angle so Lance wouldn’t have to sit up on his own.

Coran was right, it was tiny. Wrapped in a bloody cloth, it was very small. Possibly about the size of Lance’s old iTouch, it would effortlessly be engulfed in Shiro’s hand.

Shiro reached for it though, taking the small fetus to cup in both his hands gently. …it was startlingly—recognizably a child, even as tiny as it was.

Coran reluctantly stood by before commenting. “Ah, hormone levels suggest it would have been a boy.” He pointed forward. “You can actually see, his genitals are already formed to some extent.”

Shiro gave a small nod as he looked down at it. He sat at the stool again, bringing it closer to Lance.

Even so small—there was a face, and tiny hands, and tiny feet. There were even little ears, sticking out from its head awkwardly.

Pidge provided Shiro with an extra cloth and Shiro wiped away more blood, transferring the fetus to the cleaner cloth.

Looking down—Lance wasn’t sure he could do it, but shakily he sat up a bit more. His limbs shook and he knew there were tears trailing down his face again. He could barely stay up but he still reached out.

Shiro noticed and leaned closer, this time over the bed, covering over Lance, and resting his upper body across him. Gently he rested the small fetus on Lance’s chest, putting it in easy range for both of them to coddle close.

Lance was frowning deeply already as his hand moved up, gently touching over his baby's head. There wasn’t any hair, but Lance still wondered what color it would have been. He hoped it would have been the deep umber of Shiro’s head.

Shiro wiped another cloth over the still face, cleaning off their head and tiny little body before he leaned forward and pressed the smallest of kisses to the side of the baby’s small head.

Finally breaking, Lance cupped his hand over his—his lost child as he started to sob, this time the effort wracked through him and he pulled the baby up close under his chin as thick streaming tears ran down his face and neck.

Shiro still didn’t say anything, but he was there as he let Lance pull the baby closer to him.

Close by, there was as sniff from Hunk. Pidge was at his side and hugged into him, hiding her own face, her glasses clutched in one hand and Hunk’s shirt in the other.

Shiro shifted and moved off of Lance before he managed to slide up onto the padded table as well, with the head raised up he lay back, pulling Lance to lay against his chest.

Lance barely noticed as he sobbed harder, nuzzling into the baby. Carefully with deft, shaking fingers, Lance wrapped his baby tighter in the new towel provided, trying his best to swaddle him.

“Come on,” Keith said as he gently urged a teary Allura towards the door. “It’s best we leave them be right now.”

Hunk nodded. Waddling off with a still attached Pidge, he robotically followed in Keith’s footsteps.

Coran pulled a blanket up over Lance’s legs, and locked eyes with Shiro. “When he’s done, there’s a box I’ve laid out over there,” He nodded towards a pristine white box. There was fresh white linens folded next to it as well.

“Let me wash him,” Lance managed to shudder out past another sob. His fingers curled more possessively over his baby.

“Of course,” Coran said. “I’ll leave a basin of water and more towels for you.”

“Thank you, Coran,” Shiro finally voiced as he nodded to the advisor.

“Of course,” Coran took one more bow before he left.

Left alone—Lance didn’t even bother to stop as Shiro held him in closer and he whined out another sob.

 

* * *

 

They’d forced him to sleep.

With immense help even standing, Lance had washed and dried his child before carefully wrapping him up in the soft linens Coran had provided. Shiro had mostly watched, holding Lance up as he let Lance go through the motions. They both knew he needed it.

He’d lost something so terribly precious to him before he’d even gotten to properly say hello. Lance needed to grieve, and accept that it was over. And to do that he had to clean the mess of birth from his son. He needed to whip away the blood and wash the delicate thin skin. Most of the veins were still visible underneath the babies deathly still form, but Lance still coddled him close before slowly he started to wrap him up.

Shiro’s hands came over Lance’s as he pulled the linen over the still face. Gently as Lance finished, Shiro intertwined their fingers before with joined hands he scooped the small wrapped form up and placed it in the small white box.

Lance didn’t know what the box was made of, but what ever it was, it was smooth to the touch and had a soft matte finish over it. It wasn’t just a box set aside for junk. What ever it had been used for before, it was something with a purpose. It was a small thing that comforted him. He knew it was silly, but he appreciated that the fact his child resting place wasn’t a piece of cardboard.

After the lid had been secured and Lance had pressed a kiss to the top of the white box, he finally nodded to Shiro.

Without hesitation, Shiro scooped Lance up into his arms.

“It’s done,” He told Coran at the door before Shiro started off towards the showers.

Coran had insisted on a handful of pills and Lance had gulped them down before letting Shiro tow him to a bench in the training room showers, washing the sweat and birth from his skin.

Lance didn’t even remember the shower much. He’s sure at some point he just slumped over Shiro but either way between one breath and the next he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the science in this right? probably not. I'm sorry I wasn't a med major. Hopefully if anyone does know how something like this goes down it doesn't bother ya'll too badly if I got it all wrong. 
> 
> You can [Bother me here on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) or [Stalk me here on My Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured a new chapter to at least one of my Shance fics would make a good Birthday Present. 
> 
> Happy Birthday my beautiful, cosmic boy.

When Lance woke—he smelled pine trees. His face felt numb from the endless crying and he shifted—in black sheets.

 

“Hey,” Shiro’s voice was very close.

 

Lance could hear the slide of his boots on the floor.

 

“It’s okay,” he hummed. “I’m just checking your vitals.”

 

And as he said, Shiro’s fingers slid in against Lance’s neck and he pressed two fingers in under his jaw. Shiro’s other hand tapped the wall and immediately the digital clock appeared.

 

It was military time and had everything from month and day to milliseconds. At the count of a ten, Shiro pressed his fingers a bit more insistent and Lance could tell he was counting.

 

The slide of Shiro’s thumb over Lance’s primary omega glands, tucked up under his jaw, was unexpected. He stroked gently, rubbing across the gland and sending a brisk cold rush through Lance.

 

His eyes rolled back as a shiver lit down his spine. No one—he’d never really been touched there before. He thought about leaning into the touch but his body felt too weak.

 

There were a couple more strokes of Shiro’s thumb before he took his hand away.

 

“Alright, you’re still doing just fine,” Shiro leaned in just a touch more, pressing his lips to the curve of Lance’s ear. “Get some more sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance woke again—last time he may not have registered where he was, but this time he knew. He’d only been in this room a couple of times before and one of those times had arguably changed his life—Lance buried his head in under the black comforter.

 

He clutched at the pillow in his hands tighter and looked at it. It wasn’t the pillow he’d fallen to sleep on last time. No, he knew this pillow—intimately well.

 

He’d had sex on this pillow.

 

And then he’d stolen this pillow.

 

And then he’d clutched at it every possible moment.

 

Lance swallowed. The team must have been in his room. They must have seen it and—returned it… to Lance, and Shiro’s room simultaneously.

 

God, just one more embarrassing secret just thrown bare to dab a bit more salt on Lance’s wounded heart.

 

“Hey,” that voice was soft and Lance turned in the bed—which…

 

There was a different bed in here. Lance wasn’t sure how but the bed he was laying in—it was a queen. Still set into the wall, but it was definitely a lot bigger than the tiny single that used to occupy the space.

 

“You’re awake.” Shiro said.

 

Lance looked up. Still toweling his hair off, Shiro wore only a pair of comfy looking sweatpants as he came out of the bathroom.

 

“How are you feeling?” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he came forward.

 

Sliding onto the edge of the bed, Shiro leaned in close to Lance. His hand came up, dusting through Lance’s hair.

 

Lance looked away. “Why am I here?”

 

Shiro just sighed. “We need to talk. I think you’re well aware of it. ” he said in a quiet voice. “But I’ll give you space till you’re ready.”

 

Lance nodded.

 

Shiro tipped his head and a metal finger went up to Lance’s chin. “Hey, how you feeling?” Shiro repeated, this time more insistent.  

 

Lance still managed to avert his eyes. “I’m fine.”

 

The sigh Shiro gave—it cut through Lance. He knew that sigh. It was the same one Shiro always gave when he was tired of dealing with Lance.

 

Lance tried to push up, “I think I should go to my room—“

 

“I’d prefer you stay here,” Shiro said in a tone that suggested until Lance could properly get to his room on his own—Shiro would be making sure he stayed there.

 

But that didn’t stop Lance’s brow from furrowing. “No, you don’t.” He shook his head. His hand came up to his face, covering over his eyes. God, ten minutes after waking up and he was on the brink of crying again.

 

Shiro tipped his head. His metal hand had rested on Lance’s shoulder and now he moved it to pet across Lance’s side.

 

“Do you really want to get into this conversation so quickly?”

 

No. Lance wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball and fall into a black hole where he could cry forever and no one ever look at him again and the emptiness inside him could finally be let out and he could just—let go.

 

He sniffled as he realized he was crying again.

 

Shiro realized it too and moved his hand back to Lance’s cheek to cup his face. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lance’s brow.

 

“It’s okay,” He soothed. “You’re okay.”

 

He pet his hand across Lance’s face and through his hair.

 

Lance broke into another sob as he slid back down to the bed, smooshing his face back into Shiro’s scent. It made him so angry that it was so comforting at that moment.

 

“Is there anything I can get you?” Shiro asked.

 

Lance just shook his head as his shoulders heaved again with another sob.

 

The nod from Shiro was slow. “‘Kay. I’d like to stay but if you’d like—“

 

“Leave,” Lance hissed. Lifting just enough he could make sure Shiro heard him.

 

Shiro rescinded from him slowly, kissing Lance’s hair again and running a hand from his shoulder down his back. “Okay, I’ll be back later with something for you to eat.”

 

Lance just continued to cry and wrapped his arms around the pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

When Shiro did return, Lance ate. With Shiro’s gaze on him, there was no nonsense about it. He constantly checked if Lance wanted anything. Another blanket? Presented immediately. Some hot tea? Shirom went to ask get it done himself. Though The second Lance strayed into andy sort of negligence Shiro was there to quickly correct it. Lance dutifully finished meals and downed pills and let slid his feet back under the covers if he felt they were cold.

 

Moments after finishing off the food Shiro had brought him, Lance fell back on the bed and ignored the Alpha as much as possible. Shiro didn’t invade Lance’s space. He just resigned himself to the desk, looking over—whatever the hell it was Shiro looked over to keep them constantly battle ready. Just the sound of his breath, across the room—When Lance asked if Shiro could go away again he didn’t fight it before he left.

 

That night, Lance woke to Shiro pulling a small air mattress out on the floor and settling in for the night. He slept shirtless, Lance noted to himself.

 

Lance’s eyes were red and ached. As Shiro had caught his eyes Lance knew there was still the remnants of tears on his face so he simply pulled the comforter up closer, turning over to hide from the Alpha.

 

He checked Lance’s vitals still every morning and evening before asking if Lance wanted anything.

 

And the cycle continued.

 

It wasn’t until the fourth day that Lance woke and fully sat up in the bed without the urge to simply curl back up and keep crying. He realized Shiro wasn’t there. Not that it was surprising, Lance had banished him at every turn.

 

He’d hoped Shiro would grow tired of it and let Lance just go back to his own room.

 

Lance frowned, yeah, that still was a good idea. His own room was on the others side of the castle. He’d be more secluded there.

 

He eased himself up and pulled the covers off the bed—right. He was still bleeding. Coran had mentioned that.

 

Shower first, then rip Shiro’s bed apart to dump in the laundry and then back to his own room.

 

Lance trudged into the bathroom softly as he stripped off the white suit, similar to the pod suits, though LAnce never remembered going in. It must be standard for medical treat met. But white—like really? He was a bleeding mess and the Alteans still went with white??— carefully as he reached the enclosed shower. Was everything bigger in Shiro’s room? It seemed like it.

 

There was even a giant bathtub in the room! Lance didn’t have a bathtub. Then again, Shiro was a much larger person. Maybe the rooms were magic and the larger the person the bigger everything was… Lance wondered if Pidge’s room was full of midget furniture.

 

The thought at least cheered him up enough to get through the shower, all aches and pains included.

 

Feeling the freshness of his skin finally Lance pulled on a hoodie of Shiro’s and cinched up a pair of his loose sleep pants. He could return them later. He snatched up Shiro’s pillow though. He probably wouldn’t be returning that in the near future.

 

From the look of the room, there wasn’t much else that was Lance’s left about, so he slowly went to the bed. It was surprising just how taxing walking was. It was going to be one hell of an adventure back to his room.

 

Stripping the covers, Lance started on pulling at the sheets just as the door whooshed open.

 

Shiro looked at him with a surprised expression.

 

“You’re up.” He said it like it was a revaluation. His head tipping as he seemed to reassess Lance current condition. Lance shivered, it wasn’t till living with SHiro that he’d realized how calculating he truly was. He stood there in his paladin armor, his helmet tucked under his arm.

 

Lance just nodded and turned back, yanking the last of the sheets from the bed, before tossing it to the pile of bedding.

 

Shiro set the helmet down on his minimalist desk. He watched Lance closely as he came in. “What are you doing, if I might ask?”

 

Lance didn’t look over his shoulder at Shiro as he went to the pillows starting to strip the cases.

 

“Well,” Lance started. His hands were fidgety in front of him. “I—I’m really sorry, but I made a mess of your bedding I’m afraid.” He looked down as the embarrassment pooled in his cheeks. “I—they should be cleaned.”

 

“It’s alright,” Shiro’s  voice was a lot closer than expected. His larger frame loomed over Lance as he stepped closer to him. “Can I help you take these to the laundry chute?”

 

“It’s just across the hall,” Lance said quietly. “I can do it.”

 

Shiro nodded but still gathered up the bedding. “I still think I should do it.” Whisking the covers away, he disappeared out the door.

 

Lance trailed off back to his pillow. He didn’t pull the case off that one, he probably would only wash it if something drastic happened and then he’d probably just switch it out from one Shiro was using. He clutched the pillow to his chest as he looked around the room again.

 

“I made sure to have new bedding sent up,” Shiro remarked as he came back through the door. He was already halfway into removing his armor. The breastplate came off first, followed by the rest of his upper body.

 

Lance stepped closer to the door. “I—“ He stopped, unsure of what to say.

 

Shiro noticed him just as he removed his boots and with a soft smile trailed over to him.

 

His hand came up again, running through Lance’s short hair. Shiro’s dark gaze fleeted to the pillow for a moment before he smiled. “Not willing to give that one up I see.”

 

Lance looked away. “uh—Yeah I, I mean, if it’s alright I was gonna take it back with me.”

 

Shiro straightened. The tone of his chest was much more visible with just the black shirt and no armor on. “Take it back?” He repeated.

 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. It’s probably time I should stop taking up your bed.”

 

Shiro stilled. He blinked several times, his hand still threading through Lance’s hair.

 

“We need to talk.” Shiro said then.

 

Lance pulled in a breath as he kept his eyes down. “There’s—I don’t know what you’d like me to say.”

 

“I just need to know,” Shiro said softly. “Why you hid it from me, why you hid yourself, everything, Lance. I need to know.”

 

“It shouldn’t” Lance felt himself already cracking. “God, I hate doing this all the time.” Lance crammed the heel of his palm up over his eyes.

 

“Hey—“ Shiro was already there, pulling Lance’s hands away. “It’s okay. It’s completely understandable.”

 

Lance jerked away. “Stop.” he whined.

 

Shiro raised his hands up off him. “Alright, I can give you space.”

 

“Space?” Lance looked up. “You’re joking, right?”

 

Shiro looked taken aback but still shook his head. “No?”

 

Lance squeezed the pillow to his chest harder. “Let me make this very clear. I don’t want your pity.”

 

Shiro’s nose wrinkled and brow lowered as he spoke. “Excuse me?”

 

“Or your guilt.” Lance set his jaw. “Or whatever it is you think this is.” His chest heaved with the effort but he kept going. “You never liked me before. You don’t like me now! and just cause—just cause I had your—your—“

 

“My child?” Shiro interjected.

 

Lance was shaking, the conflict already raising his nerves. “I wasn’t even to the fourth trimester. It was barely a child.”

 

“Really? Cause it looked like you cared a whole fucking lot about _my son_.” It was growled.

 

Lance’s head shot up. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Shiro swear before and he almost took a step back away from the Alpha.

 

Shiro closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead like he was trying to clear a headache. “I don’t—“ He huffed. “I don’t want to fight with you. That's the last thing I want.”

 

“No,” Lance said quietly. “The last thing you want—is me.” He looked back away, averting his eyes to the floor. “I knew the night we had sex that you didn’t want me. I’m the only omega on this ship. It was convenient and —I’m the last thing you’d ever want.”

 

Stepping forward, Shiro didn’t take any sort of protest this time as he drew Lance to him, pulling him in a tight embrace to his chest.

 

“You’re right,” Shiro gruffed, “I didn’t want you that night, and I’m so very sorry for that. I shouldn’t have approached you with such a clouded head.”

 

Lance tried to wiggle away but was stopped as Shiro slid an arm around his middle, his fingers lightly skirted at his spine, activating the glands lining it to calm Lance.

 

He whispered next into Lance’s hair, “But please don’t make assumption about anything I’ve felt since then and especially not what I feel now, after what’s happened.”

 

Lance mewled and rest his cheek in against Shiro’s chest. “You feel guilty. That’s it.”

 

Shiro was quiet for a moment before he admitted. “Yeah, I do feel real guilty about what happened, but that’s not all of it.”

 

Lance huffed. “I’m not leaving, am I?”

 

“No,” Shiro said. “Not ‘til the two of us can talk this through.”

 

* * *

 

 

Allura delivered their bedding oddly enough and Shiro smiled and laughed with her as they both made the bed in new crisp black sheets. They even laid out the comforter and pillows.

 

Lance slinked from the desk chair and to the bed, already crawling under the covers as Shiro talked with Allura. She’d sat down just at the edge of the bed though that didn’t sway LAnce from escaping around her.

 

“Lance,” Allura turned to him. “We miss you.” She said as she stole forward on the bed, leaning over it towards Lance.

 

Lance just drew the covers around him tighter and backed into his cave of soft black.

 

Allura turned back to Shiro. “You said he was doing better.”

 

Shiro gave a shrug. “I didn’t say he wasn’t still Lance.” He crossed his arms. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one he’s trying to shun.”

 

“I’m not shunning you,” Lance gruffed.

 

“Lance!” Allura exclaimed, her sparkly eyes turning to him.

 

“I just wanna go back to my room,”

 

Allura sat back, “I thought…” she trailed off.

 

Shiro stepped closer, speaking close to her. “We haven’t been able to talk things over yet…” It was words clearly meant for Allura but even so Shiro’s eyes flicked up and met Lance’s.

 

Allura gave a careful gaze to Lance before flicking to Shiro and giving a just as careful nod. “Of course.”

 

Lance almost gave a growl but instead just frowned from his blanket fort.

 

A smile already curled back at Allura’s lips. “Well, please come to dinner, we all miss you terribly.”

 

Lance shook his head in a decisive no.

 

Shiro chuckled but slid onto the bed. “I’ll see if he’s willing later,” he shrugged. “If not, I’ll at least come pick up some food for us.”

 

“Alright,” Allura sighed. “I guess if that’s all I can coax from him.”

 

Shiro nodded and bid her farewell as she started to stand.

 

Once the door wooshed shut behind her, Shiro didn’t waste any time laying back on the bed as she left. Hooking his arms under his head, he lay back on the pillows, crossing his feet as he watched the bundle of covers that was Lance.

 

“I thought the bed was mine,” Lance said.

 

“It’s _ours_.” Shiro said. “So yes, that implies it’s yours as well.”

 

“You’re exhausting.” Lance grumbled.

 

Shiro actually laughed at that. “I could definitely say the same to you.”

 

Lance finally crawled out of his cave at that. “Then why keep this up?” His tone was flat as his eyes searched Shiro’s. “We’re not life-bonded. Hell, we never even really mated that night! You just—I was so surprised you could even knot me.”

 

Shiro tipped his head, an eyebrow going up. “Lance, you’re an omega.”

 

Lance nodded. “Right and you’re an Alpha, you’ve made that very clear to me.”

 

Shiro shook his head. “So there was really no question, of course I could knot you. You were—when I think about that night you were so beautiful.”

 

Well that—Lance sat back. That’s not what he expected. “I—I came like really early.”

 

Shiro shrugged. “Most omega’s do.” He sat forward, his legs crossing and one knee going up so he could rest his arm over it. “You guys really like to be touched, so I’m sure it’s natural.”

 

Lance let the covers fall away from over his head, wrapping them instead around his shoulders, but he didn’t say anything.

 

It was a long pause, made longer by the fact Shiro’s eyes roved over Lance, never leaving him.

 

“Lance,”

 

Lance didn’t react.

 

“Why did you hide it from me?” Shiro’s voice was a soft tone, but it was still insistent, still made it clear he expected an answer.

 

His hands fidgety suddenly, Lance looked down at them. “Why would I tell you?” He mumbled.

 

“Because it was mine. Because I’m your Alpha on this ship. Because I could have helped you.”

 

Lance shook his head.  “You’re not my Alpha. You wanna be Keith’s Alpha, but not mine. And what would you have done? Huh? Proposed an abortion? From who? Coran?”

 

When Lance looked up, the muscles in Shiro’s jaw were jumping like fish. The clenching and unclenching of his jaw evident as his brow lowered, gaze narrowing on Lance.

 

“I could have kept you healthy.” Shiro said in a tight-lipped tone. “That entire time, I thought you were slacking off. I had no idea the reason no one would see you for hours was because—” He sighed as he looked out across the room. “I won’t play the games of ‘what if’ with you. I wish I had known. We might have been able to stop the infection, but…” he trailed off.

 

Lance raised his head.

 

Shiro continued. “But it doesn’t matter now. It’s done. And moving forward. I need to know why you didn’t tell me.”

 

Shaking his head, Lance leaned back against the wall. “I thought it was obvious.”

 

“Then enlighten me, because I’m not connecting the dots.” Shiro’s voice had taken on a deeper tone, one of held back force probably but one that also skated across Lance’s nerves

 

An Alpha speaking this close to him like that always did that. Lance hated it.

 

“You don’t like me.” Lance shook his head. “I mean yeah, I’m not subtle, we both know I’d jump into a pit of spikes for you, but—god, you hate me. You are always annoyed with me and never want me around.” Lance shifted uncomfortably. “And that’s not even—the team. I couldn't embarrass you like that to the team. I couldn’t announce to them, ‘oh yeah Big Dog Alpha Shiro fucked the Omega on board.’ ” Lance sighed. “I couldn’t strap you down with it either. I didn’t want to trap you or hold it over you.”

 

Leaning away and back into the corner Lance started to burrow again. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

 

Shiro shook his head. His metal hand came up scratching across the back of his neck as he observed Lance.

 

“How in the world did you plan on keeping it from me?” His eyebrows did that worried thing, that thing he always did when he thought Lance had a bad idea.

 

Lance looked back down at his hands. “I was gonna leave. I mean not permanently. But like when I couldn’t hide it with baggy shirts and hoodies any more I was gonna leave.” he sighed. “I—Blue let me know she’d take me home if I promised to come back. And I was going to!” Lance sighed.

 

“I just wanted them to grow up—how i did. You know, no Voltron, no Zarkon, just the beach, a family that loved him.” His hands fisted in the black comforter. “I know if I came back my family would have questions, but they’d take him. They’d love him and they wouldn’t think any less of me or him.” Lance shrugged.

 

Shiro across from Lance had grown still. “You were going to have him?”

 

With a wrinkle of his nose Lance cocked his head. “Of course I was.” He sighed. “It’s pathetic, but I—I thought if nothing else, it was a bit of you, you know? It was a bit of something I’d never have again. It was a little reminder my dreams had come true, even just once and it had given me—a smaller version of you.”

 

Shiro swallowed as he shook his head. “I was so horrible to you that night.” He frowned. “I was so angry and consumed—all I thought about that night was myself.”

 

“It was my one chance with you.” Lance pathetically admitted. “I loved that night. I mean I embarrassed myself and—it hurt so much to think about, especially—when it wasn’t my name on your breath. But it was so great still. I wouldn’t trade it even after everything.” Lance looked away to the bed covers.

 

Shiro was shifting forward. “Everything that’s happened is my fault.” He ran a hand over Lance’s hair, hooking it down and pet across the side of his face. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”

 

Lance shook his head, he was close to crying again so his hand came up, still a little shaky as he hide his eyes under his palm. His other arm around his knees constricted, curling him up tighter. “Please no,” He tried.

 

Shiro was already crawling closer, “Let me apologize,” Shiro’s voice had an edge of desperation Lance had never heard from him. “I need to.”

 

“No,” Lance shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

 

Shiro was silent for a moment before warm hands were moving over Lance, pulling him and his burrito of covers back to the head of the bed and back into Shiro.

 

When Lance noticed, his head shot up and he pulled away. “No—“ he cursed. “No! I told you I don’t want your pity!”

 

“Stop making assumptions,” was Shiro’s answer in his ear.

 

Lance frowned harshly in what he knew was an ugly way but he still pulled from Shiro’s hands.

 

“Then what do you want, huh?” Shiro huffed in the same indignant manner.

 

Lance held out his hands, showing that they were empty. “It’s gone, Shiro.” Lance stared into stormy eyes, making sure his point got across. “Our baby is dead. I fucked up, and he’s dead.” Lance knew he was breaking again, his breath coming in heaves. “You don’t owe me anything anymore.”

 

Lance smeared his hand over his face. “It’s over.” He sniffed as he tried not to break into a complete mess for once. “There’s nothing left holding us together and you can move on now. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

 

When Lance managed to look up again, Shiro’s gaze burned into him. Lance just tried to keep in another heaving sob as he turned, his back hitting the wall as he tried to hide in the pillow.

 

Slowly Shiro started to shake his head. “No.” He said it like he was disgusted. “I’m not accepting that.”

 

“You don’t need to accept anything from me,” Lance hissed. He tried to lean into the corner more. “Just let me—just let me be.”

 

“Why?” Shiro growled. “So you can carry this alone? So you can tear yourself up with grief?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Lance shook his head. “I was fine dealing with it before, I’ll be fine now.”

 

“They found you in a fucking maintenance corridor!” Shiro’s snarl ripped through the room in such a deep Alpha tone it had Lance shivering. Shiro huddled over his knees, his arm aggressively running through his hair. “And it was Pidge that found you. Of all of us—it wasn’t even me. Jesus Christ, Lance, that’s the opposite of fine.”

 

Lance shook his head. “I never expected anything from you.”

 

“And that’s the problem, Lance!”

 

It got quiet. The only sound was Shiro trying to rein in his own breath and the occasional sniff from Lance.

 

“What do you want?” Lance finally spoke up. He lifted his eyes, though they were swollen again and red, he still managed to see past the crying haze.

 

In turn, Shiro’s gaze was unwavering. Dark eyes watched Lance steadily as Shiro slid an arm away.

 

“You,” he answered in a gruff exhale. “I want another shot at getting you. Not one I screw over with—old shit. Not one that involves you hiding from me around every turn.” His lips pursed as Shiro swallowed. “Let me try this all over again.”

 

Lance frowned. “I accepted a pity fuck before, I don’t want it again—“

 

“I won’t do that to you.” Shiro growled. His eyes closed as he seemed to rein in his own emotions. “Completely honest: I saw you on that table a few days ago and all I could think was—I should be your Alpha. I should keep you safe, and keep you close. I— _want_ to be your Alpha. And it’s not the first time that feeling has plowed through me.”

 

Lance hugged his legs in tighter. He wasn’t sure what to say. It sounded—honest and at the same time, hard to believe. Lance wasn’t sure he could even manage to say yes.

 

“Just stay,” Shiro sighed. “Please just stay with me.”

 

Lance tucked his head a bit more, shifting away from Shiro. “And when you don’t want me anymore? When the feeling passes because I’m not having your cub anymore, what about then?”

 

Shiro wrinkled his nose before he gave a snort. “I didn’t know you had such a small opinion of me.”

 

Lance didn’t look up. What was he supposed to think of Shiro?

 

“I deserve that I guess,” Shiro breathed out a long exhale.

 

Peeking from over his folded arms, Lance shook his head. “I didn’t—“

 

“It’s alright, Lance,” Shiro cut in, holding up his metal hand. “I haven’t been even close to kind to you when you’ve clearly needed it.”

 

The trouble with having a crush, is you never truly get over it. Yeah, Lance could say he was mostly over it, Since everything he no longer stared at Shiro or tried to catch his gaze, he no longer wondered about where he was at any given moment or what he was doing. In the past month, Lance had even stopped caring how he looked every time he saw Shiro. But even as he sat a foot from Shiro all he could think about nothing else but the pained wince he’d given Lance at his words, at the earnest way he was looking at him.

 

“I don’t think I could handle it if you stopped—“ Lance looked around trying to think of the words. “You’re right, as a team we’re already worse off from this and if—if you and I—I don’t know if I could keep it together if…” Lance wasn’t sure how to end it. If they ended? If Shiro hurt him like that again?

 

“Lance,” Shiro’s gaze was still so trained on him, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re so much stronger than—than I ever considered. I wanna make it all up to you.”

 

“I know,” Lance sighed. “And that scares me.”

 

It was quiet as Shiro nodded, his lips pressed to a hard line.

 

“Give me a chance to grieve with you?” Shiro offered. “We both need it. The team needs it from us. We can close this up and move past it, and if you let me do it with you, it at least lets me know I haven’t left you behind again.” Shiro shook his head. “I—I know you don’t understand, but I need to be there for you.”

 

Lance gulped down a breath. “I don’t wanna go all in.”

 

“That’s understandable.”

 

Lance glanced around the room. “And I don’t want to see the others for a while longer, especially not if I’m staying in your room.”

 

Shiro snorted. “You won’t embarrass me.”

 

Lance looked away. “I’ve already embarrassed myself.”

 

Shiro slid up against the wall, closer to Lance but not touching him. “They care about you.”

 

Blinking rapidly, Lance tried to process the sentiment. “They saw me in the middle of having my heart ripped out and served up to me, still as the grave.”

 

Shiro licked his lips. He leaned closer. “Will you let me touch you?”

 

Lance considered it. But in the end—the crush always won out. And he nodded.

 

Shiro pulled Lance back into him with an ease Lance envied.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Shiro whispered into Lance’s hair.

 

Lance just nodded. He still clutched at the pillow in his hands, but for the first time in a very long time he relaxed back into the real smell of Shiro, and not the lingering of him.

 

* * *

 

 

It got worse before it got better.

 

Lance tried to regulate his breathing, but it felt like an refrigerator had been balanced across his chest. he felt hot but shivered still as he curled in against Shiro’s chest.

 

“You said he’d get better.” Shiro’s Alpha tone was enough to send any lower presentation skittering from the room. “The baby is gone, and he’s been like this for hours.”

 

Coran didn’t look put out. He just gave a curt nod to Shiro, clearly not appreciating the aggravated tone, but he still explained. “The antibiotics will work.”

 

“Why can’t he go into a healing pod?” Hunk asked. He was fidgety as he leaned over Shiro’s bed.

 

Until he spoke, through the fog of Lance’s fevered haze he hadn’t even been aware his other team mates were there.

 

“He will,” Coran assured. “But healing pods are primarily used for open wounds, battle earned wounds, If we put Lance in one now he’d be there for days on end until the infection has cleared.”

 

“So we break the infection first,” Pidge concluded. She was near by. The only one so far that Shiro had allowed near. Though Lance suspected it was less to do with her and more to do with the fact she was unpresented.

 

Her cool hand over his forehead made Lance’s eye’s roll back.

 

Shiro was suddenly standing, hoisting Lance up into his arms.

 

“Arms around my neck,” he whispered to Lance.

 

Lance gave a small affirmative and curled his arms around Shiro’s shoulder and back around his neck, burying his face into the meat of his shoulder.

 

“Where are you taking him?” Allura demanded.

 

“Somewhere cool,” was all Shiro answered.

 

Lance hummed and tried to tighten his hold around Shiro’s neck.

 

“I’ve got you,” Shiro murmured into Lance’s hair. His arms wound around Lance in a protective way, holding him close to his chest before he started out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

It was cooler. Whereever they were it was cool and Lance must have dozed because he found himself blinking several times as he shifted. Hands at Lance’s waist, Shiro was careful with Lance as he himself sat back into the pilot's chair and easily handled Lance to lean back into him, the smaller boy in his lap. There’s was so much purple—

 

That’s when Lance really felt it.

 

His eyes flicked open as she slid across his consciousness in a way he’d never experienced.

 

Her presence was massive. And a deep purr that resounded through Lance’s bones shook through him.

 

With puff of breath, Lance let himself collapse into Shiro’s shoulder, forehead leaning on his neck.

 

There was another deep sound, this time closer, a chuckle from Shiro at Lance’s ear.

 

It wasn’t in the least bit like Blue. Blue bounded through Lance’s mind, jumping and leaping through his thoughts. Her excitement would trickle through Lance like rain.

 

This was nothing like that.

 

There was another deep purr this time wrapping around Lance. Like the giant cat was circling around him and in deliberate stealthy strides coming up to curl around him.

 

“She adores you,” Shiro breathed in Lance’s ear.

 

Lance gave a small sound.

 

This was—she was so big, impressive, empowering—Lance could go on for days. How did Shiro ever function with her so near? Lance felt so small next to her.

 

With a shaky breath Lance managed a half smile up to Shiro. Was he serious? This—this goddess adored Lance?? That had to be wrong.

 

“She also is a bit mad at you.” Shiro hummed.

 

Lance raised a brow. “Oh?” He breathed. “I can’t imagine why.”

 

Lance had only—fucked up her paladin’s life in the past couple of days.

 

“Granted,” Shiro gave a slight nod. “I think I’m a bit upset as well.”

 

Trying to shift a bit, even just to hold his head up to look at Shiro, Lance swallowed. “What—“ He shook his head.

 

Shiro smiled softly, stealing forward to press a small kiss to Lance’s head.

 

“Apparently,” Shiro’s voice dipped into a deeper tone, but still managed to sound warm. “You let the Blue lion—feel him.” Shiro’s brow knit for just a second. “He was moving?”

 

Lance couldn’t help the smile. “Yeah—he was kicking.”

 

There was another shuddering rumbled through Lance. Black made it clear—she was jealous.

 

And so was the Alpha at Lance’s fingertips.

 

“That—“ Shiro’s eyes shifted across Lance’s face. “That sounds so amazing.”

 

This time, when Shiro leaned forward to connect their lips, he did so softly, it was lingering in a long way, in such a deep movement, out of surprise Lance hand came up. His eyes fluttered wide before closed. It was their first kiss since–well for a very long time.

 

It didn't last long though, before Shiro was shifting Lance, shifting him to lay back over Shiro’s chest, his cool hand came up, urging Lance’s head to rest back on Shiro’s shoulder. With an ease Lance was familiar with Shiro slid his hand through Lance’s hair, playing with his fringe and cooling his head with the same action.

 

“She’s wants to help,” Shiro said at Lance’s ear. He kissed the peak of Lance’s cheek bone. “Just lay back, open up to her.”

 

Lance gave a weak nod as he rested back bonelessly into Shiro.

 

It happened in a leap. suddenly Lance’s world was filled with stars and galaxies. He gasped, his hands clutching at Shiro.

 

“We’ve got you,” Shiro purred in at his ear. His presence —it was like her now, a deep black swirl of thunderstorms and black holes, it was power and strength, and it was yielding around Lance, pulling him in closer purring at his ear and prowling so closer it rubbed up against him with lingering strength.

 

Lance hummed again, but Black was moving him through space, taking him through—the universe.

 

Lance relaxed as he realized—this was amazing.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was conscious when Shiro had helped him into the healing pod. He was so gently with it, setting Lance on his feet with slow movements.

 

Allura had tisked at Shiro, telling him Lance had already gone into the pod once before.

 

But that didn’t stop the black paladin from caressing Lance’s face, pressing a small kiss into his lips.

 

Lance knew how the pod worked, but he still let Shiro give him quiet little instructions.

 

“Just lay back,” He murmured. “You’ll just go to sleep,” he kissed Lance’s lips again. “You won’t feel anything.” his voice was so low—just for Lance. It was a voice reserved just for Lance to hear. And even feeling weak, Lance felt the small rush from the virtue. “I’ll be right here when you get out.” Lance had nodded and shifted back in the pod.

 

Shiro looked hesitant but still stepped back.

 

* * *

 

 

And—he was there.

 

Lance blinked his eyes open—and Shiro was already up and walking to him.

 

He caught Lance effortlessly, arms open and eyes focused on him,

 

Arms winding around his shoulders—Lance breathed in the scent of pines as Shiro ran his hands down and cupped under his thighs before he lifted him up, pulling him from the pod and straight into his arms.

 

Lane gave a quiet mewl but let his head drop forward, his hands clutching tighter at the vest Shiro wore.

 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Shiro’s voice was rough but so close to Lance’s ear it still sent shivers through him.

 

Lance gave a hum.

 

“Come to bed with me?” Shiro asked.

 

“This isn’t a yes,” Lance said but he pressed his cheek in against Shiro’s neck.

 

“Is it a no?” Shiro persisted.

 

Lance buried his face. “It’s—not.”

 

Because a crush always won out.

 

“Okay,” Shiro said. “Okay,” He pulled Lance up and to him before stepping back from the pod.

 

When Lance sunk into Shiro’s sheets he gave a soft sigh, it was even better when Shiro slid in next to him and a few fingers skidded across Lance’s forehead in a goodnight gesture.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [Bother me here on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) or [Stalk me here on My Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

 

At least when he woke—his limbs weren't sore. His insides didn’t feel pulled to knots. Lance peered around him. He guessed that it was early, according to the Castle’s time. Hurtling through the endless black of space time was mostly relative so for the sanity of the Paladins a system had been implemented.  The only light was the holographic clock Shiro kept at the corner of his bed. 

 

At the edge of the bed, Shiro sat on the floor. He was panting and—Lance shifted into sitting up. Shiro had a towel out, and a mat on the floor. In his hand was a bottle of water. Even from where Lance was on the bed, he could see the line of sweat dribbling from Shiro’s skin at the back of his neck and his hair glistened with it. The training tee and form fitting black leggings he wore had dark sweaty patches. 

 

As Lance crawled forward, the mattress gave a shifting groan and Shiro’s head tipped. Already at the edge, Lance slid back down to his elbows, lying at the edge of the mattress and next to Shiro. 

 

“Is this – normal?” Lance asked, his eyes roved over the room and back to his sweaty partner. 

 

Shiro snorted. “Yes.” He tipped his head back to properly catch Lance’s eye. “But it’s not—it’s not usually this intense.” 

 

His knees were pulled up and Shiro rest his arms over them, hands hanging limp before him. 

 

Lance sucked in a deep breath. “This looks exhausting.” He managed a small mirthless chuckle. “Training alone makes me want to go back to bed, if I started the day sweating I’m sure I’d never leave the bedroom.” 

 

There was a deep hum of a chuckle next to him. “I promise not to make you join me.” 

 

Lance’s elbows slid down, folded and he slid down as well, resting his chin over his hands. 

 

“I’m sorry If I woke you,” Shiro’s eyes were down at the water bottle he’d set between his feet. “I just—this—I know you don’t understand but I’ve kept this workout schedule for the last three years—through everything that’s happened—I need it.” He looked down as if he was ashamed. 

 

Reaching out, Lance’s first touch was tentative, running his hands over Shiro’s sweaty hair. It was slightly gross—but it was still soft and it caught Shiro’s attention immediately. 

 

“It fine,” Lance hummed. He tried to make his voice sound sweet but it just felt—empty. 

 

He was granted a glance from Shiro. 

 

“You need the consistency, I can understand that.” Lance murmured. 

 

Shiro’s gaze, finally on him, was too neutral for Lance to read. 

 

With a pluff of the mattress, Shiro let his head fall back onto the mattress, tipping in to be nearly nose to nose with Lance. 

 

“May I kiss you?” Shiro breathed. 

 

Lance licked his lips, considering. 

 

“That’s alright,” Lance whispered finally after a moment. 

 

Shiro tipped his head slowly, eyes still open to keep Lance’s gaze as he slid forward. At the last second, Lance squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

There was a puff of air against his lips, before Shiro closed the gap between them. It didn’t go far, Shiro still hungrily mouthed into the kiss, sucking Lance in and his hand came up to grasp his chin. Lance gave a quiet little hum into the kiss. 

 

And then they were parting. 

 

It wasn’t their first kiss. 

 

But as Lance blinked his eyes open—it felt like it. 

 

Shiro’s steely gaze still roved over Lance. “You—“ He stopped as if the words took courage. “You’re free to go back to your room whenever.” He looked away, lifting his head, he grasped the water bottle again. “You’re doing a lot better now. There’s no justification for me to keep you here.” 

 

There was a pause, and Shiro lifted the water bottle to his mouth to take a swig, his eyes still averted from Lance. 

 

“Oh,” Lance exhaled. A brow raised he ruled the concept over in his head. His eyes searched around him for several seconds before he wiggled his toes and spread his fingers over the sheets. “But we just got this brand new big bed…” He trailed off. 

 

Shiro did look up. 

 

Lance nearly smiled to himself, he’d succeeded. 

 

“Bedsides, you don’t want me to go,” Lance mused as he pet his hand over Shiro’s hair again. It wasn’t cheerful exactly, just a statement of fact. 

 

Shiro blinked as he fully turned to Lance. “No, I don’t.” 

 

“Then don’t be stupid and claim you’re trying to take the higher road,” Lance rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t your story a few days ago.” 

 

Shiro tipped his head. “A few days ago you could barely walk. I at least had reason then.” 

 

“That’s reason to check on me every couple of hours, not reason enough to steal me away to your bedroom like some prince you can lock away in a tower.” 

 

Shiro stayed still before a moment but eventually answered. “Maybe — I — felt like stealing you was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let you hide from me again.” 

 

“Mmmmhhh,”Lance hummed. He could see how Shiro’s Logic would make that an okay action. “And now that the spell is broken you’re allowing me to go free?” 

 

Shiro shifted a bit uncomfortably. “If you’d like.” 

 

“But that’s not what you’d like,” Lance quickly filled in. 

 

“No.” Shiro’s answer was painstakingly neutral in tone. 

 

“What would you like?” Lance flicked his gaze to Shiro. 

 

There was a moment as Shiro breathed in and then out again before answering. “I'd like you to move in here with me.” 

 

Lance sucked in his own breath, his eyes going back to the floor. 

 

“If I say I want my own room back?” Lance tested. 

 

“Then I’ll help you move your things back in.” 

 

God, more of that god awful neutral tone. 

 

Lance’s eyes flicked across the room. “Keith’s right — you’re really shitty about dealing with your own feelings.” 

 

Shiro laughed at that, quiet and a bit self deprecating but he rest his head back on the mattress. “Last week I was honest with my feelings, and I barricaded my prince into this bedroom.” He chided. 

 

“And what a fearsome beast you would be to get past,” Lance added. 

 

“You certainly tried,” Shiro murmured mostly to himself. 

 

“And so this week?” Lance inquired. “What are you this week?” 

 

“I’m —“ Shiro stalled. “This week I’m a leader, and I’m trying to preserve what I can for this team.” 

 

“The big bad Alpha posturing is over?” Lance inquired with a lighthearted tone.

 

“Our crisis has been averted.” Shiro hummed with a snort. 

 

“If I say I want to go back to my rooms, you won’t get what you want.” Lance pointed out. “I was there, we had a very long discussion about you basically telling me I’m your one true ho.” 

 

That broke Shiro into a smile. “That’s not how I worded things.”

 

“Meaning still stands,” Lance said as he made a face. “You’re not getting what you want.” 

 

There was a tick. 

 

“No” Shiro said slowly. “I’m not, I guess.” 

 

Lance heaved a giant huff and flopped back over onto his back. “You’re incorrigible.” 

 

Shiro laughed again. “I’m not self indulgent, no. Not when it could potentially affect this team. ” 

 

Lance stared up at the ceiling, his hand curled up, combing his fingers through his own hair. 

 

“I want to sleep on the wall side.” Lance demanded. “I hate sleeping on the edge.” 

 

It was quiet for a moment too long, so Lance turned his head. Shiro’s eyes had taken on that thunderstorm again, as they flicked over Lance’s face. It looked like it took effort for him to push breath out. 

 

“It’s yours,” Shiro whispered. 

 

“Good.” Lance barely squeaked. 

 

Their eyes locked again, for just a moment. 

 

Shiro licked his lips, his gaze this time asking for him. 

 

Lance swallowed thickly before giving a short nod. 

 

With less hesitation this time, Shiro leaned forward, his hand came up to support the back of Lance’s head, as he pressed into Lance’s lips. 

 

Lance was always left a bit dizzy and wondering if he’d ever get used to the consuming devouring way Shiro kissed. 

 

They broke softer this time, Shiro pressing in several smaller kisses that petered out. 

 

Left again staring at each other, Lance felt his cheeks start to—

 

He shot up in the bed, looking away from Shiro, facing their wall. 

 

Behind him, Lance glanced just enough to see Shiro was staring very intently again back at his water bottle. 

 

“I need to shower,” Lance hastily said as he scrambled out of the bed. 

 

“Of course,” Shiro nodded. 

 

Just as Lance reached the bathroom doors though, he paused and looked back. Shiro was watching him again though he quickly looked away upon being caught. Lance was pretty sure the first true smile in months finally slid to his lips. 

 

* * *

 

Lance pushed himself back to sit hesitantly on the examination table in the Med Bay. His eyes cast around him at the room. He still could feel the heat rolling off him. Could still feel Pidge’s hand grasping at his own, sweaty and slick but not letting go for the world. Lance shivered at the thought of Hunk — just at his ear telling him it was so close to being over… 

 

Coran slid forward on a wheeled stool, pulling with him a small table. “Alright, let’s have a look at you here!” 

 

His voice was — cheerful, Lance realized. It was an emotion that still felt foreign. 

 

It was something he hadn’t felt a lot of in a good long while. 

 

“He’s been doing much better since getting out of the pod.” Shiro said from across the room. 

 

Lance looked up and over to him. The Black Paladin was seeming to be Lance’s new shadow. A prowling overbearing black shadow. 

 

He prowled, like a panther at the edges of Lance’s vision even now. His arms crossed and the only sign of him the intentional scrape of his boots he gave every few steps, trying not to startle Lance, letting him know he was still present. Keeping his distance was a complimentary move. He couldn't crowd into Lance's space all the time after all. 

 

From Shiro’s point of view — it was a kindness. It was making up for the months he’d been absent and left Lance caught in the headlights. 

 

“You do have a mite bit more color, that’s for sure!” Coran chirped. 

 

Lance perked up, “I do—?” his brow creased. 

 

Shiro drifted closer, his own eyes inquiring at Lance before they widened just a fraction. 

 

“You do,” Shiro sucked in. his eyes connected with Lance’s 

 

Coran slid closer to Lance, and gently already started to pull Lance’s arm out, rolling his sleeve up to his forearm. “You know I wondered about you before—“ Coran tiptoed around actually mentioning it with a brisk swish of his mustache before going on. “I thought maybe you’d just stopped that religious skin care of yours—because you started to look quite sallow there.” 

 

“Right,” Lance breathed. It had been a good month since a face mask had even been a passing thought in his mind. 

 

The hand at Lance’s shoulder caught his attention. 

 

Looking up, Lance still had to pull in a shaky breath every time Shiro smiled down at him. 

 

Something about it still never felt real. Like any second it would flip and be something different — something ready to razor across Lance's already horridly broken heart. 

 

“Maybe after this we could go back to your room and retrieve some of your things like that?” Shiro asked. he seemed a bit chagrined for a moment. “When I brought some of your stuff over, I’m afraid I didn’t even think about anything beyond a toothbrush and some clothes.” 

 

Lance nodded. “Okay.” 

 

Shiro seemed still unconvinced so with a slight twinge in his expression his hand shifted up, brushing his knuckles at the edges of Lance’s ear and jaw line. 

 

“It’d help you relax, wouldn’t it?” Shiro asked quietly. 

 

Shifting as Coran started pressed a cool antibacterial cloth to the underside of his arm, Lance still nodded, tipping his head towards Shiro. He was hoping looking up at Shiro would reassure him more as Lance gave an answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

 

Shiro gave a short nod. “Alright.” he murmured. 

 

He was grasping at anything — Lance knew it, they all had to know it. Shiro was grasping at anything to try and be better to Lance, to be there and be —

 

“Ow!” Lance hissed as there was a prick at his hand, his head jerking back. 

 

“Not to worry!” Coran said. “Just need a drop or two, just enough to make sure we have the hormones levels correct.” He swiped across Lance’s hand, soaking the drop up into a tiny swatch before dropping the small strip into the machine. 

 

The holographic readout immediately started spewing data and charts. 

 

Coran leaned into look, his brow raised. “Well, that does explain quite a lot.” 

 

“Is there something the matter?” Shiro’s head snapped up and he stepped closer to Lance. As if he could defend him, as if Shiro just putting himself between the screen and Lance would protect him this time. 

 

“No,” Coran quickly piped up. “No! Not at all!” Coran swiveled back to look at Shiro and Lance. “It’s just that according to your hormone levels—Lance is a very fertile Omega, which would explain why only coupling once would still produce a cub.” 

 

Shiro still seemed puffed up, so Lance slid a bit forward, sliding a hand along Shiro’s bicep. it was enough to shift his attention, and thunderstorm eyes were glancing back to Lance. 

 

“It’s not a surprise, Shiro.” Lance frowned. It never got easier to admit his shortcomings. “I—I should have told you. I knew.” Lance fidgeted, trying to think of the right words. “I’m sorry. I should have thought about it. My mother had seven kids. I knew.” 

 

“Lance,” Shiro breathed, so quiet Lance barely caught it as Shiro pet a hand over Lance’s hair. “It doesn't matter now.” Shiro said much more firmly. He smiled this time down at Lance. “It is good news though—“ his gaze held strong to Lance’s, his jaw firm even as he smiled at Lance. “You can have another. We’ve found nothing permanant—this just means we know it will be easy to try for another.” 

 

Lance watched up at Shiro. 

 

He didn’t have time to ask or even comment as Coran was suddenly tightening an elastic around Lance’s arm. 

 

He grimaced and turned to see just as Coran pulled out the sleek looking gun. 

 

“It will work?” Shiro’s hand was at the edge of the examination table. One pressed in just next to Lance’s thigh.

 

“Yes.” Coran assured, not even looking up as he fit the small implant into the needled gun. “The implant has been calibrated specifically to Lance’s hormone levels. There will be zero chance of another little surprise popping up for a good while.” 

 

The table creaked as Shiro leaned his weight in, his eyes on Lance. “You’re still alright with this?” 

 

Locking eyes with the Black Paladin, Lance swallowed before nodding. “Of course.” He broke into a shaky smile. “Even if — we don’t — there are potentially three Alphas on this ship and I’m the only Omega, I need to be more cautious.” 

 

Shiro’s only answer was a deep exhale before his forehead rested forward, pressed in against Lance’s shoulder. 

 

The action suddenly took Lance’s breath away. The man hunched over him, his fingers sliding up Lance’s thigh to find Lance’s free hand seemed too good to be true. 

 

“I’m free to continue?” Coran asked, his eyes going from Lance to Shiro. 

 

Despite their lack of knowledge, Coran and Allura seemed to be catching on rather fast to Earth’s hierarchies systems. 

 

“Yes,” Lance swallowed. 

 

Shiro nodded. “Do it.” His head lifted. 

 

Coran adjusted and pressed the cold blunt end to the soft sterilized underside of Lance’s arm. 

 

“It’ll be fast,” Shiro said, but he still directed Lance’s fingers to intertwine with his own. 

 

Lance didn’t look away though as Coran’s gaze shifted up to Lance. 

 

Giving just the slightest of nods —

 

Coran’s finger squeezed and the the gun’s needle punched the implant into Lance’s arm. 

 

With a hiss, Lance knew his face contorted and his hand painfully tightened on Shiro’s own hand. 

 

“It’s done,” Coran said as he pulled the gun away. 

 

It was Shiro that immediately pressed gauze to the puncture as Coran retrieved the bandage tape. 

 

The room was quiet, almost eerily so as Shiro held Lance still and Coran wrapped up the small wound. 

 

“The implant will last three years at most—though it’s a good idea for us to keep checking Lance’s hormone levels at least every six months to make sure it is still functioning.” 

 

Shiro gave a nod. 

 

“And it won’t take effect for a week or so.” Coran went on. “To be safe,” Coran’s eyes slide between Shiro and Lance. “The two of you should hold off for at least two weeks.” 

 

Lance shot a precise shade of red as he looked away to the floor. 

 

“We’ll be careful,” Shiro’s voice was a controlled monotone. 

 

“I’ve no doubt,” Coran sighed the words. 

 

Lance said nothing. They were right. One mistake—Lance was fairly confident Shiro wouldn’t slip up again like that, possibly ever now. 

 

“You’re all set, Blue.” Coran chirped then stepping away. 

 

Hurriedly Lance pulled his mid-sleeve shirt back down his arm to just past his elbows again.

 

“Now, you need to let us know about any adverse effects you have?” Coran’s brow lowered at Lance. “Do you understand?” 

 

With a frown, Lance pushed himself off the examination table in order to stand. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” 

 

Coran’s gaze narrowed. “Absolutely anything! Upset stomach, cramps, bleeding, you need to let us know.” 

 

Lance looked away to the floor. The loss of trust—it wasn’t resounding ‘til now, but Lance was sure this was just the beginning of it. 

 

“Lance and I have agreed moving into the Black Paladin rooms is ideal for right now.” Shiro said, stepping to the side to let Lance retrieve his jacket.  “I’ll keep an eye on him, and we will watch for any signs of a reaction.” 

 

Of course, Coran accepted the answer 

 

Lance didn’t look up as he pulled on the loose soft hoodie jacket. It was Shiro’s—or it had been. It had been warm and soft and smelled like the Alpha Lance craved, so when Lance had appropriated the item of clothing there was only a knowing smile from Shiro. 

 

“Good,” Coran nodded. “Very good.” He was already turning to the door. “Now I’ve got some other matters to attend to. Remember his bandage will need changed tonight before he sleeps—to make sure he’s not reacting at the inception sight.” 

 

Shiro, still ever courteous, smiled as he acknowledged. “I’ll make sure it’s changed.” 

 

“Good!” was the last thing Coran reaffirmed before there was whoosh of the doors. 

 

Left in the room alone together, Lance didn't look up before his shoes squeaked against polished floors as he turned to the doors as well. 

 

“Lance,” Shiro stopped him before he could leave. 

 

Lance stood stock-still, facing the doorway as Shiro approached again. Why was it still so hard to breath this close to Shiro? Lance had new memories now — the night before, Shiro had rolled in against Lance, his breath so hot against him, his bare chest pressed into Lance. It had awoken Lance, just enough that when an arm snaked around him and Shiro squeezed Lance in for — a hug. Shiro had hugged Lance in his sleep like a rag doll and it had —

 

Lance looked to the floor. “Yes?” he tried to clear his head. 

 

“Earlier…” Shiro trailed. “I didn’t mean.” He stopped. “I’m so bad at this,” he let out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t mean that you and I — that we could try again. I realize, by the time the implant will need a replacement we may not even have a need to be Paladins anymore — and —“ Shiro stalled out more uncomfortably this time. 

 

Raising a hand, he brushed the white fringe back in a nervous gesture. Lance couldn’t help but peek up at him though. He looked so amazing like that. Flustered, his hair brushed back. Lance couldn't look away. 

 

“I don’t want you feeling like—I’m pressuring you into a mating with me.” Shiro tried again. 

 

“You—“ Lance scrunched his nose. “You kept me in your bedroom with you till I agreed to move in.” Lance scratched at the back of his head. 

 

Shiro let out a slow breath. “Yeah…” His brow knit as a bit of a frown tugged at his lips. “I’ve—“ His eyes seemed to pour over Lance, like the rain clouds hidden in his dark gaze. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted—I feel like I’ve failed you and I need to try and make it up.” 

 

That was a statement Lance could understand. “Yeah.” Lance breathed out slowly, his eyes meeting Shiro’s, hoping he made his point clear. 

 

“I know we’re trying this just for now but I realize—“ Shiro huffed. “I’m not trying to get ahead of myself, or force you into anything you don't want.” 

 

Lance nodded deftly. 

 

“Tell me you understand?” Shiro tried a weak smile sent Lance’s way. 

 

Lance did. But instead his bright blue eyes washed over Shiro for a moment more. “Do you want to try again someday?” He asked.  “With me.” He made clear. “Would you like to try again in the future?” 

 

Shiro straightened at that. “Yeah.” it was a whispered word. His gaze averted fast. “I mean I realize, that’s half emotion and hormones, I saw him for just a few moments and — It didn’t feel like enough.” 

 

Letting out an exhale, Lance finally looked away. “Okay.” he said solely to himself. “Okay.” he nodded this time to Shiro. “That’s — I — it may take a while for me to process that.” 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that — I just — I want to be so honest with you.”

 

Lance shook his head. “I’m —“ He could hear his own voice cracking. “I’m not ready. I don’t know how long — I couldn’t..” 

 

“That’s alright!” Shiro looked like he wanted to step forward to take Lance back into another possessive embrace. “There’s no reason — it was a horrible experience for you.” 

 

Lance crammed his hand back over his face, checking to make sure he didn’t start crying again. He cried all the time as it was. “It wasn’t all bad.” 

 

Shiro was silent for a long while. Long enough Lance looked up into his stormy eyes. 

 

The smile he got was hesitant but still warm. Lance always liked it when it was warm. 

 

“We need that implant still.” Shiro jumped in.

 

“Yes!” Lance leapt at the interjection. “I know, I-I mean I understand!” Lance perked. “ I — right now is just not… It’s a horrible time.” 

 

Shiro gave another nod. “Yeah. “ He took a step closer to Lance. “But in the future —“ His hand was hesitant as he reached to ever so gently and faintly brush his fingers over Lance’s cheek. “We just need to be smart about it. No more unnecessary risks.” 

 

Lance nodded, his eyes still down as he leaned his face into Shiro’s hand. “Of course.” 

 

When Shiro leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Lance’s cheek, Lance was pretty sure he was a nice cherry red. All too quickly though, Shiro stepped away and led the way out of the med bay. 

 

* * *

 

He woke gasping for air. Lance felt cold. he shivered in the night air before – the first sob broke through him like a wave crashing. It was sooo – he couldn't even remember his dream. He just remembered the feeling. The immense weight and his arms felt so empty and he –

 

Lance broke as another sob racked through him. 

 

"Lance?" There was rustling and a groggy, unsure voice. 

 

On instinct, Lance turned away, his body snapping to the side, facing the wall and away from any prying eyes. 

 

This time though, Shiro's voice was much more assured. "Darling," His voice was soft but deep as he slid up along Lance’s back, his arm coming around Lance. 

 

Lance opened his mouth to squeak out a plea maybe or a request, but before he could manage any sort of sound he was sobbing again, this time ugly and loud and he curled in against his pillow. "No," he whined. "No, my baby is gone." he managed. 

 

Lance could feel the moment that realization strung through Shiro. He could feel the moment he finally fully awoke as Shiro went stiff and his arm loosened around Lance. 

 

For just a second Lance opened his eyes, certain Shiro would release him and turn over, pretending he knew nothing. 

 

But that wasn't the man he'd entered this arrangement with. 

 

"Lance," It was spoken at his ear. Surprisingly enough—Shiro’s voice shook as well.  "My sweet blue kitten, shhhh." 

 

Any chance Lance had of protest was taken away as Shiro bodily picked him up, sliding underneath him and handily nestling Lance onto his chest. 

 

"You're freezing," Shiro pressed in closer to Lance, speaking against his hair as he pulled the covers up around Lance's shoulders. 

 

Looking down, Lance realized they must have fallen away at some point in the night. Shiro's restless tossing and turning tended to ball up the sheets around him and pull the covers from Lance. Both new to sleeping with a partner, there was a few problem they'd not earned how to solve as of yet. 

 

Presented with the warm skin, Lance buried his face in at Shiro's neck, and let the tears slowly dribbled down his face, still knowing he was in the middle of ugly crying mode. 

 

"Tell me about it?" Shiro's voice was quiet in the dark room. 

 

Lance sniffed and tried to sucking in breath. "I--I don't remember," Lance confessed. "I just--they're dead, Shiro. I--it was my fault. I--They're gone," Lance broke again as his shoulders shook. 

 

Shiro was immediately nuzzling his way in. "No."

 

Lance felt stubble and also—wetness. He didn’t dare turn, didn’t dare look up. 

 

Shiro’s hold on Lance tightened. “There’s no way to stop what's happened in the past." 

 

"They're dead," Lance whined again, his arm finally managing to slither out and around himself, laying his arm over his abdomen and feeling how—small it is, how empty it made all of him feel. "I'm so--I'm so sorry." Lance broke into a full sob again. "I'm so sorry Shiro." 

 

"It's okay," Shiro breathed into Lance's hair, continually he pressed small kisses to Lance's hair and skin. "You're gonna be okay," another kiss to Lance's hair. "I'm never going to blame you, and I’m never going to let that happen again." A kiss to Lance's cheek. "You'll never feel that alone again."

 

Lance hiccuped his cry again, his eyes squeezing shut. "Shiro," He whined. "I'm so sorry." 

 

"It's alright." Shiro pressed their lips in a tender kiss this time. "It's all going to be alright." 

 

"It was my fault," Lance managed past the stream of tears again. "I'm so sorry. He's dead and it's because of me." 

 

"No," Shiro shook his head before he pressed in another kiss. "It wasn't. It wasn't your fault." 

 

"I--" Lance's mouth hung open, gasping for air. "I--I never even, he was gone," Lance shook his head. "I never even got to hold him," 

 

"I know," Shiro’s voice dipped this time so horribly low.  There was a tremble to it as he tried to speak past the struggling swallow he gave. When he pressed their lips together the kiss lingered a few seconds longer. "I know," he repeated quieter. His voice was distant, like for just a moment he was sharing the exact same pain as his jaw tightened. 

 

"I'm so sorry." Lance shook his head. 

 

"It's alright," Shiro pressed his lips in so fast he nearly cut Lance off this time. "We're gonna be alright. We're both here now." 

 

Lance nodded. "Okay," He accepted with a sniff.

 

Shiro adjusted his grip, pulling Lance in deeper in the covers as he more comfortably adjusted them. "Don't let me take the covers from you again," 

 

Lance nodded, his head still tucked in close to Shiro's. "Okay." 

 

"I'll be right here in the morning, and as long as you'd like I'll be here every morning," Shiro continued, pressed another kiss to Lance's lips. 

 

"What--" Lance couldn't though, he couldn't sink into the loving tender comments without getting it off his chest. "What I did--I never wanted to hurt you." Lance shook his head, the tears now were just a slow roll down his cheeks. "I thought, I thought if I kept it away from you, it wouldn't affect you. I never wanted it to hurt you." 

 

With a swipe of his thumb, Shiro had one side then the other cleared away the stray tear droplets from Lance's face. 

 

For the first time Lance fully opened his eyes and looked up to Shiro. Lance wasn’t the only one —Shiro gave the briefest sad smile to Lance, his watery eyes catching what little light was available in the room. 

 

"I know." Shiro shook his head. "It's alright." 

 

"Please don't hate me," Lance pleaded. Now that he was looking at him he couldn’t take his eyes from Shiro. 

 

"I never could," Shiro assured him without a beat or breath. "That's the last thing I will ever feel for you." 

 

His body dropped, possibly from exhaustion, sinking into the mattress and melting over Shiro.

 

"Let's try to get some more sleep?" Shiro suggested, his thumb wiping away any stray tears from Lance's face. "We've still got a few hours before we need to be up." He kissed Lance again, as if the repeat would prove his point more, as if every time he kissed him it was to reassure him, Shiro was there, he wasn't leaving, he never would. "I know you need it." 

 

Lance swallowed thickly but his arm still around Shiro's neck tightened as his fingers pressed over Shiro's warm skin. "Okay." 

 

One last kiss was pressed to Lance's lips, slow and simple before Shiro lay back against the pillow and murmured in a soft tone,  "I don't hate you. Trust me, no nightmare could scare me away." 

 

* * *

 

As Lance stepped out from the doorway, he immediately regretted his decision. He even went to turn, to charge straight back to the comfortable nest he'd burrowed for himself in the soft black of his new bed. At least he would have, if Shiro hadn't been there, hadn't held out a hand, blocking his path and gently sliding along his waist, capturing and holding him there. 

 

"Lance," 

 

It was Keith, though not exactly a greeting so much as a realization, like he was seeing a ghost. 

 

Lance could hear the quiet behind him. He could feel the room thick with a pause as everyone mentally caught up to the moment. Slowly he turned. Lance didn’t make a move to say hello, just looked out at his friends. 

 

"I've got your favorite!" It was Hunk. the nervous fast pace of his voice apparent as he charged forward to the table in oven mittens and with a steaming dish of something undoubtedly delicious. 

 

Lance looked up to Shiro, his eyes narrow. 

 

There was an easy rolling shrug, one Lance was starting to recognize now. Now that he'd spent days, hours, nights curled in against him, after he'd learned the way Shiro looked in anguish and how he looked angry, how he looked helpless and how he looked happy. Lance was learning about the Alpha of their small pack and Lance knew that shrug. It was the kind where Shiro was trying to seem casual despite  the action being indeed being very rehearsed and thought through. 

 

"I may have mentioned to Hunk I was going to try to get you down here for breakfast today," Shiro's voice and face were perfectly neutral as he spoke lowly to Lance. 

 

Looking up at his Alpha, Lance's brow lowered. 

 

"Today?" Pidge piped up from her spot. "You've said you were trying to get him out of that room for the last week. And for the last five days in a row we have all had to eat sticky caramel pecan rolls every morning!" 

 

Lance blushed furiously and smeared his face in against Shiro's arm, hiding away. He felt as an arm curled around his waist and Shiro ran a soothing hand down Lance's spine. 

 

"Are you complaining?" Keith suddenly said as his face twisted in confusion. It was clear there wasn't much complaining on his behalf. 

 

"Every morning," Pidge repeated with a lowered brow. 

 

"And I'll make it every morning for the next six months if Lance promises to sit down and eat it with us!" Hunk declared, his bottom lip held defiant. 

 

Feeling smaller and possibly more embarrassed, Lance tried to shrink in against Shiro again. 

There was a puff of hot breath against Lance's neck. 

 

"It's just breakfast," Shiro murmured. 

 

Lance peeked out from around Shiro's arm. 

 

Looking on hopefully with big brown eyes and fidgety mittened hands, Hunk watched Lance as he not so casually scooted the casserole dish of caramel drizzled steaming dark pecan rolls a bit closer on the table. They looked perfect, and they shown in the light probably from a thick layer of butter and cooked to near god-like, ambrosia status. 

 

Lance pulled in breath as he blinked at his best friend. 

 

"They smell really good," Lance commented, though his voice was quiet. 

 

He could tell Shiro took it as a victory though and carefully he urged Lance forward, leading him to the kitchen table. 

 

Hunk flew into motion. "I made you tea too!" 

 

Before Lance could even sit down, Hunk had him a plate with two of the middle most pecan rolls dished out, accompanied with a smack to Keith's hand as he reached for the final one. He sent them and a fork before Lance, a moment later returning with the the tea as well, setting a steaming cup before Lance. 

 

Looking it all over, Lance made to nod. "This all looks so perfect, thank you." 

 

Hunk’s trembling lip finally morphed into a smile. 

 

Shiro pulled out the chair next to Lance and easily slid in between Lance and on their other side Keith. He wore a smile Lance could just barely see was tinged with smug victory. 

 

Lance still just looked up to his best friend and did his very best to pull on a smile. There was something–Lance felt his face pull into the motion but he wasn't sure how long he could hold the caricature. 

 

Whatever uncomfortable spell cast upon the room broke at that moment and Hunk surged forward to engulf his much smaller best friend. 

 

"I missed you," Hunk murmured into Lance's hair. 

 

Lance nodded and squeezed his friend in a bit closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [Bother me here on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) or [Stalk me here on My Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com)
> 
> My bright, beautiful Beta: [Cosmosclouds](http://cosmosclouds.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

 

Lance couldn't help but feel like the next few days were carefully coordinated around him. He still spent plenty of time in – well their room he guessed now. Granted he'd added his own flourish. Shiro had asked if Lance would like his own desk, but Lance admitted he never used his anyway. Instead they'd compromised and a small love seat had been folded out of the wall, more of the eerily convenient magic that permeated Altean culture. Lance had hung a string of fairy lights overhead, much to Shiro's amusement, framing the window out into open space. The bathroom was what largely changed, Shiro's once clear counters now were littered with a half dozen bottles from Lance's skin care collection. He'd also taken up the shelves in the shower and even placed a few candles around the large tub.

 

Which Lance learned Shiro had never used! All this privilege and he'd never even glanced at it.

 

But he wasn't allowed to stay in his rooms forever. Shiro did everything he could to draw Lance out of their room, pulling him to breakfast and asking him if he'd like to spend time with Hunk, and luring him out with Hunk's food, and claiming he knew that Blue missed Lance too.

 

Maybe – Lance just – it had been so long. It'd been close to four months that Lance had hid himself away from everyone, trying desperately to hide his secrets, and now--it felt unreal. It all felt so dreamlike. He was just waiting for the moment Shiro shrugged him off or when Hunk finally gave up on getting Lance to stay for dessert.

 

What did he say to these people?

 

He wasn't sure at what point he had disconnected from them all so greatly.

 

And that wasn't even – there was a sadness. Not when Lance looked directly at any of them, just at the edges of his vision. It wasn't there in Shiro so much. Maybe it was all the time he'd spent with Lance over the past few weeks. It was just concern from Shiro, all Lance needed to do was glance in his Black Paladin's direction and Shiro was asking Lance if he needed anything and finding Lance's water bottle to fill it up again and remind him to drink some more water – according to Shiro more water apparently helped everything – or asking if he was hungry. Hunk never asked if Lance was hungry. He just presented food.

 

But Hunk never looked at Lance like he was sad. It was concern, it was – Lance couldn't really keep looking at it. Pidge wore that look too, and Keith – with Keith it was this desperate look of sadness. Maybe he'd felt like he was so close to it and he should have seen, maybe he felt like he should have done something earlier when he thought something was off with Lance, maybe he and Lance really were sliding into some semblance of friendship, but whatever it was, the  creasing of Keith's brow when he looked at Lance was in a way Lance never expected. His was for sure sad, and the sadness wasn’t something Lance could stomach.

 

Maybe that's why it was so much easier just to run away from them all.

 

"I'm tired," Lance tried to protest yet again.

 

But Keith wouldn't relent. His grip on Lance's arm didn't either as he towed Lance along to the common room. "So I'm sure Shiro will be more than happy for you to fall asleep on him."

 

Lance huffed. "That doesn't make sense why I have to be there then, if I'm asleep."

 

"You can bond in your sleep." Keith was adamant. "And it's team bonding night so upon it's institution it requires all of us to be present."

 

Lance scrunched up his face. "Upon it's institution?" Those were not Keith's words. Keith was from Texas.

 

Keith looked up. "Yeah." he blinked at Lance like he was an idiot not once but twice. "Like when we all decided to make it a thing."

 

Lance's brow dropped. "I don't remember voting for this."

 

There was a long moment they looked at each other before Keith shrugged.

 

"Maybe if you had been at the team’s last bonding night you could have voted." Keith said matter of fact.

 

"Well when was it instituted?" Lance pressed.

 

That caused a pinch in Keith's expression, "Well – yesterday."

 

"I was around yesterday!"

 

"For breakfast!" Keith pointed out.

 

"And dinner!"  Lance shot back.

 

"And then you left!"

 

"I started crying!"

 

"So we have tissues!"

 

"That," Lance shook his head, his mouth hanging open. "How are you so dense?"

 

"Hey," Keith snapped back. "This was Shiro's idea." He proclaimed as if that trumped all emotional disparages Lance may have.

 

"Than why isn't Shiro here retrieving me?" Lance grumbled.

 

"Because he's a pussy," Keith looked Lance full in the face as he said it. "And once you start fidgeting and looking all sad he just picks you back up and tows you back to his room anyway."

 

Well those were definitely Keith's words, that was for sure.

 

Lance looked away. It wasn't like it wasn't true. There were certain perks Lance was finding to having an Alpha to call his own. He may have swooned a few times just so see if Shiro would catch him – and Lance had yet to hit the floor.

 

"We're not playing games, are we?" Lance mumbled as he let Keith pull him to turn down the connecting hall. "Because that requires a lot of interaction from me!"

 

"Naw," Keith shook his head. "Hunk wanted to make sticky popcorn, so we're watching a movie."

 

As they entered, Hunk was already dishing out giant gooey sticky gobs of delicious looking popcorn.

 

Of course, as soon as Lance's scent hit the room Shiro's head jerked up.

 

As always, Lance was struck by a domestic Shiro. Even living with the man Lance was learning how very little room for relaxation Shiro gave himself. He wore training cloths from the moment he woke from the moment he went to bed. So seeing the Alpha in a regular white tee and grey sweatpants had Lance trailing forward involuntarily.

 

Well, that and he'd caught a whiff of the sweet gooey smell of Hunk's marshmallow and caramel sticky popcorn.

 

"Hey pretty boy," Shiro smiled at Lance.

 

Cautiously, Lance managed to pull on his best form of a smile – it felt like he'd forgotten. Like a smile was a thing he'd forgotten about for so long and especially the past – since – since he'd lost...

 

Remembering brought a frown back to his face and Lance diverted his gaze. He wasn't sure how he pretended everything was okay before. It seemed nearly impossible to do so now.

 

It didn't seem to deter Shiro though and he rubbed a hand across Lance's shoulders before curling it up over the cap.

 

"Ew," Pidge grumbled from across the table. "Is this what we've all sentenced ourselves to?"

 

Hunk made dreamy smiley face. "It's the finer points of belonging to a true pack! Witnessing the blossoming of love!"

 

That seemed to catch Keith's ear and he looked up from where he was scooping more than his share of popcorn out into a bowl.

 

"When did we form a pack?" Keith lifted one eyebrow, his hand still in mid scoop.

 

Hunk crossed his arms seeming to think. "I mean probably around the same time we could form Voltron."

 

"That doesn't constitute a pack!" Pidge cut in.

 

"Do you wanna share mine?" Shiro spoke hushed in Lance's ear.

 

Lance looked up and gave a nod, at first a bit hesitant. He very much liked domestic Shiro, but that didn't mean he wasn't completely unwary.   

 

Shiro graced him with another easy smile before scooping another helping of popcorn into his already oversized bowl.

 

Keith next to Shiro gave a shrug. "I've never been in a pack so I wouldn't know."

 

Hunk gave a squeak and abruptly turned to Keith. "That's not possible. You had to have a family!"

 

Keith tried to shove a glob of sticky popcorn into his mouth but found he quickly had to peel the marshmallowy goodness from his fingers if he wanted his popcorn. He still spoke with his mouth half full though. "It was always just me and my dad." he shrugged. "We didn't need a pack."

 

"What's a pack?" Allura asked as she tipped her head at Keith, standing very near to him.

 

Already turning red, Keith didn't seem to know how to answer.

 

Pidge gave a sigh and rolled her eyes as she explained. "It's the basic family unit on earth. But it's not just family. It can be friends too, which is more common for young adults. It usually consists of a representative of each presentation, in this case two alphas, a beta, and one omega. Until I present it's unclear where I'll fit. They're usually led by a pack alpha or in our case an Alpha Prime and are used as a pseudofamily of sorts."

 

Hunk looked over with his nose scrunched in disgust. "That is the most clinical description of a pack I think I've ever heard." He shook his head before looking to Allura. "A pack is support. It's safety and support and love and cuddles and--' His bottom lip poked out. "They're important."

 

Allura smiled. "It sounds a lot like family."

 

"It is," PIdge nodded her head. "Most of them become family at least," She gestured to Shiro and Lance. "example A. Matings commonly occur in packs."

 

Allura looked over with an utterly delighted expression. "The two of you have mated?"

 

Lance immediately shrank back, but Shiro didn't seem phased.

 

"We haven't mated." He calmly explained. "We're going to see how this goes first. Jumping into decisions like that could hurt our team."

 

"Well how big was your pack?" Pidge probed at Hunk.

 

Hunk shrugged. "About average, like twenty or so."

 

"Twenty!" Pidge exclaimed. "You must mean a small country!"

 

Hunk put his hands on his hips. "That's unkind! And besides it's half the size of Lance's!"

 

Lance froze where he was and caught at that moment.

 

Hunk picked up and quickly went on. "Lance has his whole extended family and then some in his pack." He tipped his nose down to Pidge, "Well how many is in your pack?"

 

Pidge scrunched her nose seeming to count up the numbers.

 

"Eight." She said crossing her arms. "An AVERAGE number."

 

"Not with how the numbers are panning out here," Hunk shook his head. "It's the median at best probably."

 

It was Lance that tipped his head up to look at Shiro. "Shiro, how many were in your pack, at home?"

 

Shiro looked up and though he pulled on a small smile his words were much different. "I've never had a pack." He glanced at Pidge though. "The Holts were kind enough to take me in a bit though once I was older."

 

The room dipped into a quietness Lance couldn't quite place.

 

Shiro seemed to pick up on it quickly. "I mean it was never a big deal. I was in foster care for most of my life so it just never came up."

 

Lance was already sliding in closer though and for possibly the first time since every thing he smiled, and if felt real this time as he looked at his Alpha. "We can be your first pack."

 

Any protest the others had seemed to die away as Shiro softly smiled back. And very carefully he nodded. "I think that would be good," His eyes ran over Lance's face as his hand came up, cupping his cheek. "Probably for all of us."

 

Lance – he swelled with the comment, just a little, just enough as he looked to his Alpha.

 

He just – for so long, he'd felt so alone and the idea of a pack, a home even so far away from the beach and his family... He nodded vigorously.

 

"Oh god," Keith said as if he was scared and quickly was scrambling to retrieve a box of tissues.

 

Shiro chuckled actually, his arm shifted, sliding down from Lance's shoulders to his waist in order to scoop Lance in closer to him.

 

Pidge snickered, "Ohohoh! We've all found Keith's weakness!"

 

Lance sniffled and dragged a hand across his face, taking the extra moment to realize he'd started crying.

 

"Shut up, gremlin!" Keith snapped.

 

"It's just a few tears," Shiro said with just the touch of a smile, though his gaze was still on Lance as he plucked a tissue from the box and carefully wiped the fat tears from Lance's face.

 

"I'm sorry," Lance hiccuped and tried to curl away, to escape.

 

Shiro was too quick though and captured him up, holding Lance firmly. "It's okay." He pecked at Lance's cheek. "You've been through a lot,"

 

And we're here for you.

 

Lance raised his eyes from the strong metal arm holding him close, his gaze shifting to the members around him. Hunk looked on with a sort of melancholy smile, next to him Pidge who still snickered and poked at Keith as he rounded with a blanket, commenting that Lance wasn't going into shock. Keith shot a glare at her before he was looking at Lance, and he offered a blanket out to him. Smiling and content Allura came up behind Keith her hands clasped.

 

Lance sniffled one more time and his hands were still a bit shaky he reached out and took the thin blanket offered, letting Shiro help him pull it around his shoulders as he cuddled into his Alpha's shoulder.

 

We're here for you.

 

* * *

 

Lance should have expected it. Things were getting better -- but in a way that was bound to tackle the one issue still weighing him down.

 

Their first real argument was over Keith.

 

"You should be taking me," Lance whispered even as he was turned away from Shiro, facing the glimpse of space they were afforded in their room.

 

Behind him, Shiro with brisk and precise actions put his armor on. "I should be taking Keith." His voice was entirely clinical in nature. Whatever last dredges of anger he'd had on the bridge were filtered away.

 

"You need a diplomat on that ship with you, not a hot head," Lance stated, tipping his head just enough he could see Shiro. "We both know Keith is more likely to knife someone than actually have a conversation."

 

Shiro nodded. "But we also need to get there alive, which will require the Red lion."

 

"This is exactly what you said you wouldn't do to me," Lance hissed as he finally swiveled around.

 

Shiro seemed ready though and his gaze met Lance's evenly. "I'm making a tactical decision."

 

"You're doing it again," Lance shook his head. His throat felt like it was constricting and his hands at his sides were balled into fists, afraid otherwise they might shake.

 

"I'm doing no such thing," Shiro carefully shook his head.

 

"You are," Lance lunged forward, hitting into Shiro, as his balled fists hit against this chest.

 

Shiro was taken back with the action, stumbling back against the wall to keep himself on his feet as he snatched out to grasp Lance.

 

Good, Lance's lips curled in a nasty frown. Maybe Shiro would realize it wasn't some porcelain doll he was rooming with.

 

"Take me," Lance said as he set his chin defiantly.

 

He saw it then, the real reason as Shiro looked down at him, his eyes flicked over Lance's face in just the right way.

 

Slowly Shiro shook his head. "No."

 

"I will accomplish this," Lance desperately tried. "I'm a part of this team. I can do it."

 

"Not this time," Shiro said. He was already steering Lance back to the bed. "It's too risky, if the whole team was there I'd say yes."

 

"I'm fine," Lance tried. His fingers constricted around the armor at Shiro's forearms, his own casual wear becoming more pronounced in the situation. "I could do this." In his thin henley and jeans he suddenly felt vulnerable. His bare feet brushed against Shiro's sturdy black armored boots. "I'm not weak."

 

"It's not a question of you," Shiro's clinical tone was switched back on.

 

"Let me go," Lance growled. "I could do it."

 

"There's only two allowed," Shiro said simply. "And with you're out there, I'd–" He stopped, his eyes searching across Lance's face. "You're staying here, where I know you're safe."

 

"Is this really how we end?" Lance hissed venomously. "You haven't even tried. You told me you wanted to make this work. And it’s barely been a month--"

 

The hardening black stare from Shiro was enough to trail Lance off.

 

"Keith will never love me."

 

Lance was taken back by the statement, his eyes wide, his hands even stilled as he looked up to Shiro, his mouth dropping open just the slightest bit.

 

Shiro's gaze never left Lance's. "We talked about it -- ages ago." He went on as he shook his head. "He'll never see me like that. And I would destroy our friendship if I tried to make him."

 

Lance felt himself trembling. All of his fears seeping to the surface as he stared at Shiro's face. "You -- you're saying you love -- him."

 

Grasping at Lance's arms, he kept him close. "That's not what I'm saying." Shiro leaned in then, slowly, letting Lance have the opportunity to pull away.

 

He didn't.

 

And Shiro pressed a kiss to the peak of Lance's cheek bone.

 

Lance stayed silent and still. He could feel his heart in his chest pounding against his rib cage so hard he feared it would break.

 

Shiro was careful as he stepped Lance back another step and then another till his calves brushed the bed.

 

Lance thought about resisting, but in the end he just slid down to sit on the bed.

 

"I will see you when I get back?" Shiro asked his full gaze on Lance. His hand slid to Lance's face, black gloves tracing up his cheek.

 

Blinking, Lance tried to give a coherent answer but as he opened his mouth his eyes locking on Shiro-- what did he mean?

 

At that moment, Lance wasn't sure if he felt more stable or less.

 

"I'll be here," He finally simply answered.

 

"I'm come back as soon as I can then," Shiro nodded and leaned down.

 

There was a moment when where neither of them moved. A span of breath neither looked away.

 

"I'll never forgive you if you don't come back," Lance murmured before he crossed the small distance between them in a small kiss.

 

Lance finally looked away as Shiro straightened to leave. It felt like an ultimatum or blackmail, Lance wasn't sure. But it still stood.

 

"I'm picking you," Shiro said as if he was reminding Lance.

 

Lance nodded. _Prove it,_  ran through his thoughts. "Then come back," He  instructed simply.

 

* * *

 

At some point, Lance was sure he'd lost his jacket, but between Shiro's engulfing kiss and the steady dredging hum of, _yessssssss_  through Lance's veins he couldn't care less if he ever found it again. His hands clutched at Shiro's face as the Black Paladin devoured into him precariously trying to balance Lance against the wall as his hands worked at his own armor.

 

In a million years Lance hadn't expected – but  Shiro had gone straight to him, connecting their lips in the hangar, pulling Lance against him with everyone and–

 

"Shiro, you don't have to," Lance gasped for air against the Alpha as they heaved breath, surfacing from the kiss.

 

Shiro's narrow eyes watched Lance for a moment before he tilted his head and mouthed right over the primary gland tucked just under Lance's jaw line.

 

The action sent a spasming amount of hormones coursing through Lance and he god damn nearly went limp against the wall he was crowded against, grateful at that point they'd stolen away to a deserted part of the castle.

 

The sudden dead weight caught Shiro off-guard and his hasty change of grip didn't stop the two from crumbling to the floor. Lance still felt tingly and dizzy as he slumped back and let Shiro narrowly guide them back into a more comfortable position, pulling Lance into his lap as Shiro leaned over him, his arms balanced on the wall over Lance, his lips went straight back to the same spot.

 

Through the pouring of tingles in Lance, he gasped, his mouth held agape as his hands scrambled up Shiro's armor.

 

Shiro didn't let up and his hands were already starting to move up Lance's shirt, gripping at the flesh of Lance's waist.

 

His – small waist–

 

It only took a hand at Shiro's neck, and the Alpha was pulling back. At first his eyes were quizzical, but as Lance shook his head and a hand raised to his mouth Shiro quickly caught on.

 

Lance gulped down air as the memory hit him again.

 

"I–" Shiro stammered as he looked down at his partner.

 

Lance's grip tightened in the tight black fabric at the base of Shiro's neck. He closed his eyes, his head filled with – what he'd lost.

 

Shiro was already pulling away. "I'm sorry, I didn't think,"

 

"No." Lance growled. And he locked his legs around Shiro's waist, holding him there, on the floor, against the wall of some random hallway they'd found with no one around. "I just need a minute," Lance gritted out.

 

Shiro gazed over Lance for the span of a breath before he gave a small nod and hunched back over him. This time, his hands were up at Lance's face, sliding his fingers through Lance's hair before trailing them down to cup his face.

 

"You'll be fine," He whispered.

 

Eyes still squeezed tightly shut, Lance just gave a small nod.

 

"It's been well beyond two weeks, we're safe this time." Shiro went on.

 

Lance didn't move this time as he breathed out slow. "I know."

 

There was another silent span of breath. Lance huffed and tried to shift against the wall, pulling himself more securely between Shiro's parted knees.

 

It seemed Shiro had devised a new tactic in the meantime of consoling his partner.

 

He leaned forward just enough before speaking against Lance's lips. "Lance." It was a small murmur, carried on his breath, just audible enough for Lance to hear it.

 

Very slowly, Lance opened his eyes, finding himself the center focus of Shiro's stormy gaze.

 

"Lance," He murmured again before he pressed another tender kiss to Lance's lips.

 

Lance blinked before he pushed himself up a bit more, drawn back into the present moment as he looked at Shiro.

 

"You don't," Lance shook his head. "You don't have to,"

 

Shiro's response was to press a kiss forward to Lance's lips again.

 

Lance welcomed the kiss as his hands clutching back at Shiro's face but he still broke the kiss a moment sooner than Shiro seemed to want.

 

"You really don't have to," Lance gasped."I – I don't want to hold this over you."

 

Shiro's long white hair brushed over Lance's forehead as he shook his head. "You never have,"

 

Lance was suddenly pulled forward. Shiro's hands were at his waist, moving Lance to sit up and placed in Shiro's lap, much closer to him.

 

Lance's hand rested out over Shiro's white breastplate.

 

Gently Shiro's raised his hands to Lance’s face cupping his chin from either side, fingers still in black gloves threading through Lance's hair. "We don't have to–"

 

"I want to," Lance cut him off.

 

Shiro blinked up at Lance before nodding ever so slightly and leaning in to connect their lips again. This time Lance was over him and the height made him feel susceptible, like Shiro was devouring him from below. But Lance still moaned into it, letting his eyes flutter closed.

 

His hands at Shiro's breastplate slid down. Palms flat, Lance smeared his hands down over his Alpha, rising with the heave of his chest and descending with the slope of his ribcage till smoothing over his abdomen and down farther. Lance knew how the suits were constructed. There was metallic clanging as Lance undid the belt at Shiro's waist and it fell back to the floor.

 

Shiro broke the kiss then with a wet sound, his hands still tangled at the sides of Lance's face.

 

"What do you want?" He whispered with deep earnest growling in his voice. "I'll give it to you. Whatever you want."

 

Lance hummed as his fingers were at Shiro's groin, prying open the suit.

 

"Kiss my neck again?" Lance suggested. He heaved out a laugh. "I wanna – I wanna be ready, to – to take you."

 

Shiro nodded, his eyes hooded as he set to work, his lips going straight to the now swollen glands just under Lance's jaw.

 

Fingers nimbly making it through, Lance bit his lip and tipped his head up, letting Shiro have as much as he wanted as he dipped his hand into Shiro's suit, gliding it in and--

 

The deep growled moan shook through Lance so tremendously his spine snapped straighter as he arched into Shiro's mouth. Simultaneously Shiro's hips jutted up, sliding his cock into Lance's grasping fingers, thrusting it eagerly and deeply into Lance’s palm.

 

Lance couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up in him. "And you said we could wait," His sly grin and narrow eyes shifted down to his Alpha.

 

Shiro's eyes were on him as he sloppily licked up over Lance's glands, watching as the sensation wracked through Lance as his body crumbled his grasp before he spoke. "I'm at your disposal. Even if you tell me you'd like to stop."

 

Still regaining himself, Lance did manage another grin as his sliver of a gaze still peered over Shiro.

 

The intense stare of his partner, was almost -- comforting. In a way Lance never encountered before. He was both slightly scared of the way Shiro looked at him, and yet entirely consumed.

 

"I don't want," Lance shook his head. "I don't want to stop."

 

The smallest lift of Shiro's mouth was Lance's first answer. And then his spine alighted and Lance gasped as Shiro's hand ran up his spine, his palm pushing in as he sprung to life the secondary glances lining Lance’s spine. The effect was almost immediate as Lance breathed out, the tension in his body leaving with an exhale and he nearly collapsed forward over Shiro's shoulders.

 

Keeping him steady though, Shiro nosed his way back up Lance's throat.

 

Lance felt the haze of hormones wrapping around him even tighter, and through the twitching massive ball of nerves and gasps and moans he still managed to curl his fingers around Shiro's shaft.

 

He was rewarded with another rumbling growl as Shiro's hand smoothed back down Lance’s back, hitting every point again for good measure as he smoothed his hands down.

 

Lance gasped as Shiro's hands slid over--

 

Lance's eyes opened fully and his mouth parted in a breath.

 

Both of Shiro's hands were at Lance's hips and ever so gently they pushed back, his fingers moving over and around Lance's pelvis to end rubbing over Lance's very sensitive omega glands at the base of Lance's spine.

 

Lance’s arm instinctually went around Shiro's neck, hauling himself against the man’s chest.

 

As Shiro's hands pulled back, his fingers dug in at Lance's waist band this time.

 

"Lift up,"

 

Lance hadn't realized how close Shiro was to his ear, till he heard the thunder of his voice and his lips brushing Lance's earlobe.

 

With a faint nod, Lance, pulled his arm more securely around Shiro's neck and hauled himself up, bracing against Shiro's breastplate.

 

With a powerful, jostling jerk, Lance felt as his jeans and his boxer briefs were yanked down his thighs as far as Shrio could get them without pulling Lance from his lap. It was enough though, and smoothly Shiro's hand slid back around Lance, dusting over his glands once more before his fingers sank down.

 

Lance keened as finally he was filled and his arm around Shiro's neck constricted.

 

Resting forward, Lance pressed his forehead in against his mate.

 

There was a hummed chuckle underneath him, before Shiro pressed his head up as well and connected their foreheads, his white forelock pushed back up away from his face.

 

Cracking his eyes, Lance's gaze was filled with Shiro. Wordlessly he nodded to his partner.

 

"It's too soon." Shiro whispered.

 

"It isn't," Lance said and rolled his hips.

 

His hand still between them held Shiro's full member still. Lance twisted his grip around the long shaft, tugging a  bit as he stroked.

 

"I don't wanna hurt you," Shiro spoke again.

 

"You promised you wouldn't," Lance wasn't sure where the desperation in his voice came from at that moment. "Not this time. You told me it would all be different this time."

 

Shiro seemed caught in the moment too as his eyes ran over Lance. "Then let me take it slower this time. Let me make sure I do it right."

 

Lance – why was Lance frowning? He nodded though even through the cloying in his throat and the way his hands desperately clutched around Shiro's neck and his fingers gripped at Shiro's hair, and Lance tried to hold himself to his Black Paladin so close they'd bleed into each other.

 

A second finger slid in, and Lance gasped.

 

"Lance," Shiro breathed this time right over his lips and Lance gulped down thickly, though the feeling in his throat didn't dissipate.

 

"Please," Lance wasn't sure what he was begging for.

 

His hand slid from Shiro's cock and smoothed back up his armor. Lance grasped at Shiro's face, both hands holding him as close as possibly pressing his forehead in.

 

Shiro's fingers stretched with every thrust into him and once three were in it was an easy movement, aided by the slick leaking from Lance.

 

"Up again," Shiro spoke softly.

 

Lance complied and pulled himself up again, nearly all the way this time to standing on his knees.

 

Shiro broke their foreheads for just a moment, his head turning as he brought his hand up. He grabbed onto the black glove lining with his teeth and pulled, jerking his hand back to remove first one glove then the other, revealing one flesh and and then a cool metal one.

 

Lance watched before Shiro moved back to where he was, connecting his forehead with Lance's and this time giving a smile before his hands, now bare skin and metal, smoothed down Lance's thighs, and pulled him in closer, adjusting Lance to fit snugly against him.

 

One hand went up between them and Lance registered the feeling of skin as Shiro's fingers pried between Lance's thighs.

 

Lance choked out a small keening sound as he felt Shiro start to very gently coax his own small cock to life.

 

"Come down slow," Shiro nearly purred to Lance, his eyes still locked on him, metal hand guiding Lance's hips down.

 

"I'll fall," Lance whined. His fingers stroked agains’t Shiro’s face again.

 

"You won't," Shiro shook his head, his white forelock brushing against Lance, tickling his skin.

 

Lance choked again, and tasted salt this time as he tried to pull in shaky breath. "How do I know?" His voice felt so small, so --worn.

 

"Cause I'm here," Shiro said. "I won't let you fall again."

 

Lance knew the moment he finally broke and it coincided with the moment he let his hips drop.

 

Shiro was right, his metal hand very carefully guided himself in and more aptly kept Lance steady.

 

Lance's hands fisted in the black fabric of Shiro's suit again as he gritted out a keening cry.

 

"Lance?" It was a clear question this time. "You're okay?"

 

Lance nodded vigorously. "Yes. I'm fine. Keep going, please keep going."

 

Shiro licked his lips before leaning up to connect their lips. "I'll always be here." He tried to comfort.

 

Lance nodded. His hips dropped a bit farther, Shiro's girth sliding in through the slick gave a wet sound. Lance shifted his hips, adjusting as he sunk a bit lower still.

 

"I'm not leaving again."

 

Another wiggle of his hips and Lance slid another inch lower.

 

"Lance,"

 

With a keen, Lance finally seated himself in Shiro's lap fully, balls deep and Lance's bare ass on Shiro's thighs.

 

"Feel okay?" Shiro inquired.

 

Lance nodded "Yeah."

 

Shiro's hand slid over Lance's face again, petting over his cheek before Shiro leaned up to kiss him again.

 

Lance felt like he craved him, his body slumped over Shiro as he burst, his cloying throat no longer able to hold it as he felt himself break into tears.

 

"Lance," Shiro's voice was quiet and soft.

 

Hands slid over Lance's thighs and pulled him up, before slowly, ever so slowly, they guided him into rolling his hips and pushing back down.

 

"Shiro," Lance whined as he realized he was crying, that he had been for a while now and he squeezed his eyes farther shut.

 

"I've got you," Shiro murmured. though his voice seemed--desperate. "I'm not gonna let you fall."

 

Their pace was slow and Lance rolled himself over Shiro's cock as they both moved into it, both grinding up and back on and over against each other, fingers clawed at one another and pressing so close it as if they could mold and melt together like two candles dwindling away as they intertwined and merged through the heat, no longer whole without the other, truly bleeding into one.

 

"Lance," It was a whine this time from Shiro and his face had changed, his expression morphing as he thrust up into Lance. He gritted his teeth and looked up so desperately into Lance’s gaze.

 

"Please," Lance gave his own whine. "Please,"

 

"Anything," Shiro promised him, his body still ground up into Lance.

 

Lance whined and moaned as his tears still dripped from his face and his mind felt like mush but his fingers clung to Shiro and his eyes never looked away.

 

It was a surprise when something seemed to give and--

 

Lance gave a choking cry as Shiro's knot slid into him.

 

"Yes," Lance whined, knowing they were speaking in nothing’s, knowing there was no words for the moment, nothing beyond the press of foreheads and the scratching of hands that could mean more.

 

"Lance," Shiro repeated again, like a mantra, like a confession.

 

His arms pulled around Lance's middle and with one last roll of Lance's hips -- they both shuddered as Shiro came, pushed as deep as he could get into Lance and sealed there, pulsating like a raw over sensitive nerve.

 

They teetered upright for a few moments, like the shells they were, holding fast to each other for support before--Shiro gave first, blinking for the first time since he'd come and they both collapsed over, falling to the side in a heap of limbs and ecstasy and despair and love and affection and hurt and want and--the remains of the day all pulled around them, binding them together.

 

And Shiro did just that, still bound together from the knot he still pulled Lance in closer to him, despite the armor and their haphazard arrangement he still pulled Lance as close as possible and pressed his lips into him, kissing him until the two of them had no more strength for even that.

 

* * *

 

When Lance blinked his eyes open they were still on the floor.

 

Shiro had removed the breastplate and even his shirt, leaning back against it and opted to pull Lance in over his chest.

 

Looking down, Lance traced along one of the many scars on his partner’s chest, two fingers lightly carving out the jagged line. "..did you want to...?" His shifted his eyes up to Shiro in what he hopped was a subtle manner.

 

Though Shiro looked straight down at him. His expression was unreadable for several seconds before he commented. "It'll hurt."

 

Lance scrunched his nose, a bit miffed Shiro didn't think he couldn't figure that out on his own. "I know."

 

"We can't go back after," Shiro went on. "not for a while at least."

 

"I'm aware of the implications." Lance snipped.

 

It quieted as Shiro brought his hand up, running it through Lance's soft hair.

 

"Where would you like it?"

 

In surprise, Lance lifted his head, peering at Shiro, unsure for several seconds before he moved, pushing up onto his knees.

 

"We can change location, next time right?" Lance asked "Like, it's not permanent?."

 

Shiro nodded. "We would have to wait for this one to fade, but no it's not there forever."

 

Okay, Lance breathed to himself. Okay. He reached behind himself and hooked his hand in his shirt, bringing it up and off. As his head popped back out, Shiro's hand grabbed the tangled shirt from his arms and was helping Lance get it all the way off.

 

Setting the shirt aside, Shiro beckoned Lance closer, coaxing him with his hands.

 

"We probably," Lance spoke as he crawled closer, not sure exactly how Shiro wanted him, but pressing his thigh in against Shiro’s, close enough that he could feel the heat from Shiro radiating. "should have done this -- like before."

 

Pushing up onto his arm, Shiro nodded. "Yeah, that would have dulled the pain for you, that's for sure."

 

"It won't -- It won't like be broken from doing it now right?" Lance checked.

 

Shiro shook his head. "It's just a mating mark, they're not very complex." He chuckled.

 

Lance nodded. His hands were fidgety again as he tried to keep a level head. He was the one to ask for this after all, he should be the one eager for it.

 

Shiro reached a hand out, his big rough hand careful as he moved over Lance’s boney sculpted shoulder, tracing along his defined collar bone. "Your shoulder?" he inquired. "I'd like it be some where, easy for me to get to."

 

Right. Shiro would want that. It was a source of comfort to him too. Lance eventually nodded. "Yeah -- uh yeah my shoulder should be fine."

 

"Okay," Shiro pushed up farther, sitting up all the way as well before he was beckoning Lance in again. "Come here,"

 

Complying, Lance leaned in deeper, and reached out to steady himself on Shiro.

 

Shiro dipped in to press a kiss to Lance's cheek. "I'll be quick."

 

Lance nodded again. "I trust you."

 

Shiro ticked his head at the comment, taken by surprise maybe. But Lance still held his gaze, trying to implore that it was true.

 

Wordlessly, Shiro pressed in another kiss to Lance’s cheek before leaning down.

 

Lance hands clung to Shiro's shoulders trying to brace before--

 

It didn't hurt as much as Lance had thought it would.

 

But it still definitely was painful as Shiro's sunk his teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Lance felt lethargic still even once they were back in their room. Sitting on their bed, Shiro bent at the waist again to gently pull back the neck of Lance's shirt and carefully run his tongue over the mark.  

 

It was still dark in the room but a nearby star, ghostly white, was shining in on them.

 

Lance raised his hand, his fingers smoothing over Shiro's arm and up over his shoulder.

 

It seemed to encourage him further and Shiro shifted down to his haunches and licked again a the mark before kissing at Lance's neck. It was lazy though and leisurely, and before long Shiro rest his head there against Lance, his own hand rubbing up Lance's arm in a soothing motion.

 

"Is this always going to stand between us?"

 

It was out of Lance's mouth before he realized.

 

Shiro shifted and slowly pulled away.

 

Without hesitation, Lance looked down at him, Shiro's big hand still on his arm, though stilled as Shiro's stormy eyes looked up at him.

 

Then they looked away and Shiro stood.

 

Lance sighed looking away as well. "I'm sorry." He said soft. "I know I keep bringing it up."

 

"You're scared." Shiro said so fast he nearly cut Lance off, he shifted where he stood, awkward like he wasn't sure which foot could better hold his weight. He nodded though. "We're committing to something that -- has potential -- to hurt us."

 

Lance didn't look up from the floor. "I don't want this to define me." His mouth still hung open. He knew there was more to say he just -- couldn't grasp at the words behind the feelings.

 

"I told you --"

 

"Keith doesn't love you." Lance said. It wasn't malicious or angry. It was said softly.

 

There was a breath of silence.

 

"That’s not what I wanted to say." Shiors voice held the same softness.

 

"It's all I hear -- since you said it, it's all I keep hearing." Lance explained.

 

There was another shift of Shiro’s weight before he sidestepped and sat on the bed next to Lance.

 

"I didn't mean for you to take it to heart."

 

Lance shook his head. "That's not what stuck with me." He looked over. "Why did you say it to me like that? Like pointing out that his feelings could explain your own."

 

Shiro seemed to contemplate for a moment. "I don't know. I wanted to ease your fears."

 

Lance searched Shiro's face. "I don't want this--" his voice cracked and he looked away, already knowing what was on the way. "I can't do it if it’s just because I hurt you."

 

Shiro snorted. "You hurt me?" he slid a bit closer. "I'm not sure that's how that went."

 

Lance didn't look up from his clasped hands in his lap. "You know what I mean."

 

Another breath, a tick long of silence passed.

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

Lance could already feel his eyes wet and watery. "How do I get over it then?"

 

Shiro sighed. "I think – we don't."

 

Jerking his head over, Lance looked at Shiro. "But – we can't –"

 

Shiro pushed himself in closer to Lance, leaning back on one arm as he tipped his head in towards Lance. "That's not what I mean." He blinked slow. "There's not a way that -- this doesn't define us." He shook his head. "We're here right now, because of what happened."

 

"I don't want to hold it over your head." Lance said as he turned in towards Shiro.

 

"You're not," Shiro insisted. "That's not what this is about."

 

Lance still frowned. "And Keith?"

 

Shiro raised a brow at Lance. "I've already told you what has happened with him."

 

"So we just – let this be?" Lance shook his head.

 

"No, baby." Shiro gave a small smile. "We just – keep going. Accept that it happened? Accept that it’s the horrible that finally shoved us past all of our mistakes?"

 

Lance frowned. "I don't  –" He looked away. "I don't think it was a mistake."

 

There was a press of lips to the peak of Lance's cheek. "That's how you do it." Shiro whispered against him. "That's how we move on from this."

 

Lance still just blinked, looking down as Shiro mentioned a shower and stood, before offering his hand out to Lance again.

 

The metal of Shiro's hand was smooth under his fingers as Lance slid his hand up and let Shiro tug him to his feet.

 

* * *

 

This time, Lance had come willingly to Pack Bonding Night.

 

They had started with Shiro sitting on the couch and Lance sitting next to him on the floor, because as Pidge put it, they were gross, and they needed to contain themselves in the presence of other civilized human beings... namely her. But as the other members of their small pack had one by one gotten distracted by the movie projected before them, Shiro had been the one to tap Lance on the shoulder and give a beckoning motion with his hand.

 

With a sly grin, Lance did give one last look around him, before he shifted from his curled up posture and crawled onto the mostly vacant couch. He was just gonna sit next to Shiro, maybe burrow in against his side, but at some point he'd transitioned to the point he was currently at -- draped across Shiro's lap. His crossed arms where he rested his head over Shiro's knee, he was stretched out over the couch and Shiro's hand was rubbing fond, smooth strokes, petting down Lance's spine, causing, if possible, Lance to melt even more over his lap.

 

Their movie choices weren't large. If they knew Altean Coran assured them there was a wealth of cinematics to choose from but -- there was just, Lance thought it wasn't so much about the movie. It was about feeling -- at home, like for a few moments they weren’t in a hopeless situation thousands of miles away from their homes.

 

_"When anything bothers me and I'm feeling unhappy I just try to think of nice things."_

 

_Julie Andrews golden bob gave a swish as she spoke to the bed full of children around her._

_"What kinds of things?" One of the children asked._

_Julie's face scrunched as she thought, "Oh well let me see, nice things."_

 

Lance quirked a smile as his eyes roved over the room. Everyone seemed entranced with the old movie Pidge found in her stash on her hard drive. Lance did know for a fact it was actually one Hunk enjoyed quite a lot, though for himself--

 

_"--green meadows, skies full of stars, raindrops on roses--"_

 

He wasn't sure he'd ever forego this movie again.

 

A warm hand brushed back over his spine again, lulling Lance as he watched Julie crest into that lovely singing voice she'd used to make a name for herself.

 

_"Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings, these are a few of my favorite things!"_

 

Lance looked up from the movie around at his friends. Pidge was again burrowed at Hunks side where he lay in a pile of blankets a few feet from the projection. The long cream colored nightgowns of all the children reflected on Pidge's glasses. Next to them, Keith was on the other couch, leaning over the armrest he was on, a fingertip’s reach to Lance and Shiro.

 

But of course -- there was Shiro, sitting behind him. When Lance glanced back at him, he caught Shiro's gaze in a flash. There was a moment of just looking at each other before Shiro's hand came up and brushed through Lances hair as he smiled down at him.

 

No. It wasn't about the movie.

 

Lance pushed up on to his hand and knees, sitting at his side. Shiro observed him with a half smile and a raised brow for just a moment, not stopping Lance from rising from his lap.  Lance gave his own soft smile and leaned up to press a tiny kiss onto his Alpha's scarred nose.

 

"We said no gross!" Keith jeered as he hurled a pillow at Lance.

 

WIth amazing reflexes, Shiro's metal hand snatched the pillow out of the air and his arms flung out to capture Lance, holding him there and to him. as he gave his own dart in to kiss him this time on the lips.

 

Lance gave a blush but as another pillow was hurled at him, he pulled back to throw up an arm in his defense.  

 

He knew the look in his partner’s eyes staring at him, he thought Lance's blush was pretty.

 

Lance gave a smile before settling back down, laying back across Shiro's knees. They didn't say anything. But Lance -- for the first time in a long while, he enjoyed the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the ride. :) And no worries I've got some fun new stuff coming up to keep the Shance alive ahah! 
> 
> You can [Bother me here on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/PitchGold) or [Stalk me here on My Tumblr](http://pitchgold.tumblr.com)
> 
> My bright, beautiful Beta: [Cosmosclouds](http://cosmosclouds.tumblr.com/)


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